


Sofa Surfer

by setyourgoddamntrackers



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blood, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, Fake AH Crew, M/M, R&R Connection - Freeform, References to Drug Use, Swearing, alternate universe- GTAV, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-17 15:07:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3533975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setyourgoddamntrackers/pseuds/setyourgoddamntrackers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan had signed up for a lot of things when he said 'yes' to Geoff Ramsey when approached about being in a gang, but having to wake up to an interloper sleeping on his couch, eating all of his cereal, and singing loud and off-key in the shower every morning was definitely not mentioned in the job description.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Couch

The kid had to go.

‘Kid’ being used in the loosest possible sense of the term, due to the current occupant of his couch being at an age where he could obtain less-than-legal substances without question.

Then again, this was Los Santos. They started young here.

The… _kid_ , yeah, there really was no better way to describe him, was sprawled in an ungainly fashion against the hideous brown-and-red checker patterned couch, upside down with one foot in the air over the back and one slung over the armrest. What the position must be doing to his brain cells, Ryan didn’t know, but he figured it couldn’t be doing much worse than the constant smoking and life in front of the portable gaming device affixed about two inches from his glasses. 

And hey, he wasn’t the kind of guy who would try to stop a kid getting jacked up- hell, he’d been there once or twice and wasn’t afraid to take a hit or two on the odd occasion, usually when alcohol wasn’t doing it for him and sleep was an elusive concept. That wasn’t the problem.

The real problem was, well, it was _Ryan’s_ couch.

Sort of.

It was his in the way that he’d had it in his old flat before moving into an apartment with Geoff, Jack and Gavin, but he never really used it anymore- the couch was more of a way to piss off his roommates to no end.

Again with the loose terms- ‘roommate’. They weren’t roommates, they were a fucking gang. Or they would be once their capacity increased to more than four people. And their apartment was more of a penthouse, with four bedrooms- three currently occupied- that overlooked the cityscape featuring floor-to-ceiling windows, just to add to that mob-boss feeling. It was one of the first things Jack had pointed out when they looked at the place, not that she was ever around much, flying from place to place doing deals and building up her reputation.

But the couch. It was an eyesore, but Ryan refused to let anyone take it away. It was ridiculous, but it was one of Ryan’s conditions- he kept the couch, and the Fake AH kept a psychotic murderer. He’d owned it since college, and had some of his best memories on that couch- like hitting 100,000 gamerscore after thirteen months of hard work.

 Oh, yeah, and losing his virginity. His first time having sex was on that couch, a few years back.

Priorities.

But as little as he actually used the couch anymore, he couldn’t help but be mildly frustrated by the interloper who had taken up residence on said sofa for the past two and a half weeks.

It had taken a good few hours of persuading on Gavin’s part to even get Geoff to think about putting up the scrawny kid for a while, especially when he was trying to run heists and operations from the spare room that Gavin had apparently offered without consulting the boss first.

The kid had settled that quickly, though, once Geoff finally relented enough to at least consider Gavin’s ‘request’. (Ryan didn’t want to know Gavin’s methods of persuasion, be it promising more or withholding sex, but he assumed it was one or the other. Plus, the ridiculous puppy eyes and begging- “ _Pleeeeeeeeease Geoff, c’mon, it’ll only be a week or two, he has nowhere to go-”_ until Geoff finally turned to Ryan with a raised eyebrow, asking for his opinion.

Ryan recalls having shrugged. He hadn’t cared. As long as this guy didn’t want to get involved with what they did, it wasn’t an issue.

He cared a little now.)

 

The Puerto-Rican- short, slight and surprisingly not dotted with acne- had waltzed in, nothing more than a heavy-duty satchel and a neon-pink case to his name, plonked himself down on the couch, and hadn’t moved, sans the occasional disappearance around three in the morning. Ryan heard him go some nights, but as long as he wasn’t causing shit he figured it wasn’t his business.

And hey, it wasn’t really his business if the guy wanted to get stoned and spend all day lounging around playing on a DS. Hell, that was the life, wasn’t it? Kudos to the guy if he could afford to do it, but still…

He’d have to get that couch dry-cleaned. Or he probably won’t stop Geoff and Gavin from trying to burn it the next time they offer.

 

“You just gonna stand there and look at me all day or what, man?” Brown eyes didn’t leave the screen, but his voice carried clearly.

It took a moment for Ryan to process that his entire internal dialogue had taken place in the span of about ten minutes, with his eyes fixed on the intruder to his- _their-_ apartment. Rather than dignifying the question with more of a response than an exhalation of air, he turned and marched back out of the open-plan main room.

It was just touching on a quarter past five in the morning, dawn’s light blocked from completely entering his bathroom by fogged glass. It was early, he hadn’t slept, and he was sick of getting out of bed after a night of lying wide awake and finding that fucking minor on his couch.

He started up the shower and pulled his hair out of its usual tied-back style, rubbing his tired eyes and pulling his hand away to observe the black smudges transferred in the action. Huffing, he shrugged off his sleepwear and stepped under the spray.

One thing about having an expensive apartment- it meant having _really fucking nice_ showers. Geoff had pulled out all the stops in regards to user comfort, paying Gavin’s friend Michael (who occasionally designed or supplied a weapon or two for their bigger stuff, but never really joined in the fun) to install speakers that wired to the latest iFruit gadget. Throwing on some old classic rock was one way to unwind and de-stress in the shower, and God knew he needed it.

There was another heist in the works, Gavin and Geoff planning and searching for more hired guns and scoping out locations- Ryan wasn’t into all that as much as he was blowing the shit outta stuff while actually on a mission, so he let them shut themselves away for a while. He assumed Jack was probably working behind the scenes too, she was hard to get in contact with these days. But there was definitely something coming, he needed to be sleeping and getting prepared- and here he was, getting all worked up about a fucking _kid_ on his couch. He didn’t even have a real _reason_ for hating the kid, or the fact that he was sleeping on Ryan's couch.

Sighing, rinsing products out of his hair and deeming himself presentable enough, he shut the water off and left the bathroom, mind occupied with thoughts of the heist and the kid and what the hell they were gonna do if they couldn’t find anyone who fit well with the group dynamic.

Drying off and dressing in his room, he headed back out into the lounge, only to find Gavin had woken up within the time it had taken him to shower, staring blearily over the kid’s shoulder. Realistically Ryan knew they were around the same age (and probably mentally as well as physically) but Gavin seemed older, somehow. Maybe it was because Ryan was used to overhearing him being fucked by Geoff on a regular basis- it was a little hard for someone to retain their innocent and youthful veneer after that.

Ryan just shook his head as he walked past the two towards the kitchen, unnoticed- they were both utterly engrossed in the game Ryan recognised as a part of the Kirby franchise.

That was, until he opened the pantry to find an empty box where he’d expected his cereal to be.

Now, Ryan wasn’t one to eat breakfast often, usually getting by on one box of cereal in two to three weeks, but this box had only been bought in a shopping run not four days ago.

“Who the _fuck_ ate my Cheerios?”

 Both boys on the couch jumped, Ryan mildly surprised at the high kid’s reaction time, not surprised at all by Gavin’s overreaction or the resounding _thud_ as the British kid launched himself off the couch and onto the floor. 

“Uh, it was Ray,” Gavin began, but Ryan waved him aside- there was no point listening, because he knew it wasn’t Gavin. Gavin hated Cheerios with a passion- all cereals, in fact, due to the fact that if they weren’t consumed in the first thirty seconds of being poured into a bowl, the cereal got soggy, and “mingy”.

“Fuck this. I’m going to go get myself some more cereal,” Ryan growled, beyond annoyed now. The kid – _Ray_ , he could remember now- was getting on his last nerve now. First he takes up his couch, then eats all his cereal- and the worst thing was that Ryan _knew_ he was being petty, but he couldn’t help himself, he just got frustrated over the little and irritating things.

He made sure to let the door slam behind him, but could hear the usual squawks Gavin made when he was being punched, and could hear distinctly hear the kid- _RAY_ \- as he stalked down the hallway, muttering “Thanks for throwing me under the bus, asshole.”

There was no way Geoff would have slept through all of that, so he’d have _that_ to contend with as well when he got home, too. Ryan dragged his trip to the supermarket out for as long as he could, throwing multiple boxes of Cheerios into the basket. He told himself he wouldn’t let Ray eat any this time, but he couldn’t afford to take that risk.

 He noted the lack of mobile phone in his pocket, but was glad he’d had the common sense to at least grab his wallet and keys before storming out of the penthouse.  Besides, it was kind of nice, Ryan reflected as he paid for his goods using a self-service machine, because it meant that he couldn’t receive any “could you grab me some ‘x’ while you’re out” messages or voicemails.

*-*-*-*

Arms laden with shopping, Ryan trudged out of the elevator on the top floor, dropping a bag or two to fumble with his keys at the door. Their security was good enough for them to not really worry about locking the door, but a lifetime habit was hard to break. He’d almost got the key turned when the lock tumbled of its own volition and Gavin threw the door open.

“Thanks for the help, Gavin,” Ryan commented offhandedly as he assumed Gavin would help him pick up the groceries from the floor, but was left standing with one eyebrow raised as the British kid just stood in the doorway.

“Uh…?” Gavin flung a glance over his shoulder quickly, before Ryan added, impatiently, “Can I come in or what?” It was pretty weird, having to ask to enter his _own apartment_..

“Nah.”

_What?_

“What?”

“Uh, nah,” Gavin ran a hand through his messy hair, before coming out into the hallway and forcing Ryan back a couple of steps, attempting to shut the door behind him.

“What the fuck? Gavin, I just went and bought all this shit, and now I’m not allowed back in? What the fuck is going on in there?” Of course, even laden with shopping Ryan had the sheer size and tenacity to overpower the kid and push past him into the apartment. Gavin squawked and flapped his arms and kicked his feet out, only to tumble to the floor over the threshold.

Nothing looked out of the ordinary, his couch was still there (buried under a pile of blankets and pillows, but there nonetheless) and Geoff was awake, moodily staring at the coffeemaker like it would magically produce caffeine without him doing anything.

Nothing had really changed, except Ray was missing.

Once Gavin admitted defeat and shut his mouth, Ryan realised he could hear something-music, playing somewhere deep within the apartment.

And then, the most awful, terrible and off-key sound he’d ever had the misfortune to hear- also, possible the reason why Geoff was awake so early- emitted from the same direction.

“Living just to fiiind emotion!”

Ryan froze, Gavin sighed and Geoff let his head thunk to the counter, bent almost in half.

“Hiding somewhere in the niiiiiiiight~” And the kid's lung capacity was almost impressive- how he managed it, Ryan couldn’t fathom, but he held the note. Just a shame it was nearly an octave higher than in the song.

The song. That as far as Ryan knew, only existed on his phone, because Geoff only had (quote) “good music” and Gavin saved all the room on his phone for camera footage instead of music like a normal person.

“You fuck!”  

“Doooon’t, stop, belieee-veehng,” was all that answered, and Ryan had half a mind to march in there and pull the kid out by his ears.

“So the kid sits on my couch, eats my food, and then because for some reason he can’t _possibly_ use your shower, he takes my phone and uses _mine?_ ” He competes over the sound of Journey lyrics being screamed, too loud, too off-key, and entirely too Ray.

Now the thing is, Ryan knows how irrational he seems, but he’s pretty touchy about other people invading his space. Hell, it was bad enough the kid had taken over his couch, but now he was taking over his bathroom, too?

Geoff just glares at him, as if to ask why he was making so much noise, bags under his narrowed eyes.

Gavin speaks up from the leather couch, where he’d slunk after Ryan had pushed past him. “In my defence, I not only told Ray not to use your shower, but I also told you not to come in.” He squealed and ducked as Ryan chucked the open box of teabags off the counter at him.

Ryan had had enough. It was barely pushing seven-thirty and his resilience was thin on the ground, along with his patience. Dumping the groceries on the counter in the kitchen, he reached around to turn on the kitchen tap and waited for the water to get hot.

The thing about the penthouse was that yes, it was a penthouse, and it was full of beautiful furniture (if you didn’t include the couch) and modern décor, but it was still an apartment. An apartment in downtown Los Santos. So, predictably, a minute later there was a screech from the bathroom, followed shortly by the kid walking out wrapped in a towel- _Ryan’s fucking towel_ \- dripping from the hair and pouting, steam blurring the glasses he’d slipped on his still-wet face.

“Dude, the fuck was that?”

The hallway entrance was fairly close to the kitchen, and it took less than three of Ryan’s strides to have the kid pushed up against the wall by the throat. Ray released a huff of air in surprise so Ryan was sure not to let him suffocate, but kept him against the wall, letting some of the rage he was feeling build to the surface. The kid had one hand on the towel, one on top of Ryan’s, probably to pry him off. Behind him, Gavin had leapt off the back of the couch and run over, though still too afraid to get too close to Ryan when he was in one of his moods. Even Geoff had barked out a word of surprise, but stood back and let Ryan go.

“I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, or who you’re messing with,” the bigger of the two growled, the sound coming from deep within his throat, his voice quiet and dangerous, “but you need to realise very quickly that you’re toying with more than you can handle here. There’s a reason people fear the Fake AH crew, even though we’re only team of four.”  Brown eyes widened, but then narrowed, and Ryan nearly dropped the kid in surprise at the challenge he saw rising in Ray’s expression. Finally Ray settled on a smug grin.

“I think I could handle that,” and on the last word Ryan struggled not to flush as he realised Ray had his knee situated against the crotch of Ryan’s jeans. A coy smile flittered onto the kid’s face as he realised Ryan hadn’t meant that at all, but now that he was considering it, he had a distinct advantage- distraction.

“I’m invited here, and I’ll be here until I’m asked politely by your boss to leave,” it was Ray’s turn to murmur quietly, and he shot a brief, reassuring smile over Ryan’s shoulder to Gavin, whose look of concern faded as he took a step back. “And between you and me, once he sees my value, that may be a long time coming.” And there was nothing more that Ryan hated than a kid that was cocky, so confident that he would come out of this encounter alive. He glared, taking in the slight part of Ray’s lips, the lines under his eyes, the water dripping from his hair down his neckline to his waist, mind racing.  The kid was after a job? If Geoff knew that then why was the kid still here without a formal job offer? Was he trying to prove himself before asking- and if he was, he was definitely not going the right way about it. Unless he’d approached Geoff for a job already and Ramsey wanted to see how he’d work with the rest of the crew. Or maybe he was just messing with Ray.

It wasn’t an issue for the present time. His grip was about to fail- as strong as he was, he couldn’t spend all day holding cocksure teens two inches above the ground by the neck, so he took a step back, and Ray tried to conceal how relieved he felt.

“Fine, enjoy your stay,” was all Ryan had to say, before it was his turn to smirk. “I will be taking this back, though,” and his tone and volume was back to normal, loud enough to be heard by the other occupants of the room.

Ray had barely a moment to think before Ryan ripped the towel out of his hand and from around his waist, struggling not to laugh as he strode back into the kitchen towards the laundry to wash, leaving the kid standing there, momentarily flustered as Gavin practically collapsed on the floor with laughter. Even Geoff managed a few guffaws as Ray arched his back, turned, and strode back down the hallway in the direction of Ryan’s ensuite for his clothes.

With her perfect sense of timing, Jack walked through the open door, surveying the scene- Gavin laughing in a heap on the floor, Geoff standing by the coffee maker as though waiting for coffee (which he obviously wasn’t because it wasn’t even switched on), and though Jack had been out working for the past week and a half and wanted nothing more to go and crash on her bed, she couldn’t help but ask.

“What the fuck happened while I was gone? Obviously not work,” she commented, their heads turning to face her. Seconds later, Gavin was upon her, launching himself off the floor and wrapping her in a bear hug.

“Oh, you know,” Geoff yawned, shrugging with the same movement. “Shenanigans.”  

 

 

 


	2. The Test

The next few days passed in a flurry of activity, mostly in the form of multiple phone calls to their contacts and still putting out feelers for new hires. It was a busy time and even Ryan got in on the action, poring over maps with Jack while Geoff and Gavin discussed the possibilities, weighing up the risks and the possible takes to find the best outcome. It was exhausting, but kept them occupied.

Unless of course you were Ray Narvaez Junior and the world revolved around you, and you could spend your days slouched on a sofa mashing buttons on someone else’s Xbox One or your own personal handheld device of choice, taking the occasional hit without a care in the world.

Not that Ryan was bitter.

It wasn’t like anyone else in the apartment would like the opportunity to laze around for a day, take a nap whenever they felt like it, get high and get achievements and not have to pay rent.

Ryan was slightly bitter.

At least when they were locked in the spare room together it felt more like the old times, when the risks and pay-offs weren’t high and they looked at convenience stores instead of high-security vaults, when they could relax and it felt natural and they could laugh. More importantly, Ryan and Ray couldn’t butt heads while they were separated. In that respect, it was a calm and blissful time in the penthouse.

Until Michael came over unannounced. Not unannounced, strictly speaking, as Gavin had invited him, but it was a surprise to those who hadn’t been informed of this invitation (namely, everyone.) Ryan liked Michael well enough- his company was preferable to Gavin’s on occasion, as while he had some serious trouble maintaining his temper he, at least, knew when to be serious. So hearing his dulcet tones echoing down the hallway, tone audible through the door but not distinct words, none of them seemed disappointed- until they caught what was being said as the door swung open.

“Who’s the rat?” Michael greeted the room at large with, one hand on the back of Ray’s hoodie. The kid in question was quick to wipe the indignant look off his face, replacing it with slight guilt, a sort of ‘what-can-you-do?’ expression.

“What?” Jack, who had stood as the door opened, eloquently replied. Ryan’s chair scraped against the vinyl floor as he followed, hands resting on the table to support himself. Geoff quirked an eyebrow and Gavin just looked delighted- probably because Michael was here.

“Well, this guy was sitting outside your door, listening. For a bunch of criminals, your security is pretty shit. Want me to get on that?” Pushing Ray in front of him, Michael entered the room, not getting far due to the table that took up a good percentage of the space, especially with the four seated around it.

“Why were you listening at the door?” Ryan cut in as Geoff went to reply, undoubtedly offended. It was, of course, Ryan who had designed the system, but it was more for keeping people out of the apartment altogether. He figured people would only get in if they were invited, and if they managed to get in after that, well, good luck to ‘em.  

“Oh, y’know. Heard you were planning a heist, ‘n all.”

Ryan was tempted to grab the kid by the throat again and kick him out of the apartment. “Why do you want to know? Gonna sell us out?” There weren’t many gangs who bothered with the Fake AH, as they were pretty idle aside from the occasional heist, but he knew that some would pay decent money to see them get fucked over. And in a city like this, some information could be bought at top dollar.

“I want in.”

And there it was. The first flicker of real emotion that Ryan had seen on that kid’s face since he’d been pushed up against the wall by the throat five days ago- _interest._ Ray apparently wasn’t having them on, but Ryan wasn’t buying it for a second.

“Bullshit,” he began, but was interrupted immediately by Geoff, who had slapped the palm of his hand on the table to keep himself steady as he nearly heaved up a lung with laughter. Even Jack allowed a genuine smile to slip past her lips.

“Geoff, you’re gonna be sick,” Gavin fussed, but that did nothing to stem the giggling. Ray shifted uncomfortably in the doorway, Ryan absently wondering about the sincerity of the action- it was both a good and a bad thing if Ray was showing signs of nervousness. Nothing about his personality had yet hinted at uncertainty, so either he really was desperate to be involved, or it was a calculated movement to make them think as much. Finally, Geoff stopped, but was bright red in the face as he stared Ray in the eye, breathing in deeply to calm himself more. When he was ready, he spoke, tone jaunty but with an underlying hint of actual curiosity.

“What skills have you got to offer me? You’ve been living it up on my couch for nearly three weeks-“ (and here Ryan coughed subtly, Geoff ignoring him) “-because Gavin told me you couldn’t get a job. So what makes you think I’ll take you on? And you better hope you’re fucking special if you think I’m gonna hire someone who’s not even hit puberty yet.” Michael snorted with laughter and Ryan’s lip quirked, but Ray held firm.

“I’m fair with a sniper rifle.”

Their eyes made contact, Ray not backing down from this now that he’d issued a challenge, and even Ryan had to admit it was pretty daring for him to stand up to the leader of the crew and demand to be taken seriously.

Geoff was actually taking him seriously, too. He leaned forward, hand resting under his chin.

“How _fair?_ ”

“Let me show you.”

“Have you got the guts to kill?” This time it was Jack, who didn’t seem as willing to tease the poor kid- this was a genuine question. “You know it’s not all fun and games, like, you will be killing actual people, possibly people you know.”

“I’ll do it.” The words were quiet, but quick to come in response. They could only hope he wasn’t joking.

“He’s not lying,” Gavin leaned across the table and grabbed Geoff’s arm and therefore, his attention. “I haven’t been completely honest with you, Geoffrey. Ray asked me if there was any chance of him getting in on this, while we were looking, and Geoff… I’ve seen him with a gun in his hand, you don’t wanna miss it, he’s a right sod but he knows his way around a rifle.” Gavin confirmed the theory that Ryan had been developing himself, though he had been wrong about Geoff knowing. Gavin had orchestrated this from the start. “I just… if he got along well with _us_ first I thought…”

Gavin trailed off as Geoff steepled his fingers and looked down, chewing his lip. Ryan knew they would come to the same conclusion- Jack was probably there too. They’d have to let the kid try, they couldn’t afford to waste the opportunity. They were looking to hire, Ray was looking for a job, Gavin trusted him, and they’d all managed to live under one roof for a good few weeks without anyone dying.

After a tense few moments, Geoff looked up at the kid slouching in the doorway, catching his eye again. He licked his lips.

“Show me.”

The room was silent for a moment.

Then,

“ _Are you fucking kidding me?_ ”

The outburst was not, as literally all but one in the room would have expected, from Ryan, but rather, from Michael, who stood now with his jaw dropped in disbelief. Geoff frowned and Jack sat back down with a sigh.

They all waited- even Ray didn’t say anything. Either he was that easy-going that the tantrum brewing didn’t bother him in the slightest, or he had picked up on all of their cues to stay still and let the rage just wash off of him.

“I’ve been trying to get myself into this fucking crew for _months_ and this fucking guy just walks in here and you’re all like, “well we have no idea what he can fucking do and he looks like he’s in middle school but hey we’ll fucking offer him a chance anyway, because why the fuck not?!” Michael was already turning pink, curls falling about his face. Gavin sat back, slack-jawed, and Geoff just seemed like he’d been hit in the face with a brick.

“Wait, you-“ Jack was the only one really put together enough to come back with a response, but Michael cut her off anyway.

“You- I’ve been showing you my skills for fucking _ages_!”

Geoff blinked, once slowly, and then a couple of times quickly after that, and then decided to brave opening his mouth.

“Since when did you want to join the crew?”

“Is this a fucking _joke? I DESIGNED WEAPONS FOR YOU ASSHOLES!”_ Michael was in full gear now, Gavin leaping up as if to placate him but not really knowing how, like someone holding a child for the first time and not knowing where to hold them so their head doesn’t go all wobbly. “I wiredhalf the shit you’ve got in here! For fucking free! I even-“

“You’re hired.”

“-fixed all the shit that you already wired because god knows Ryan made a fucking terrible-“

“Michael. I’m hiring you. Shut up for a second.”

“-mess of it, and you probably didn’t even notice, you fucking ba-“

“Michael. You have the job. Please, go fuck Gavin already, use up some of that energy.” Geoff was weary now, thumbs pressed into the corners of his closed eyes, the universal “shut the fuck up I’m too exhausted to deal with you right now” sign. Michael’s tirade trailed off as he realised what Geoff had been trying to say.

“Wait, you’re actually- you’re hiring me? For r-”

“Gavin, if you don’t get him out of here in the next twenty seconds I’m not gonna be held responsible for what happens, I’m not in the mood to deal with shit.” Michael stopped, a dumb grin spreading on his face, mirrored by his boy. Even Ryan found himself smiling- they’d got a new hire, and it was Michael, of all people- hopefully he was as good with using his technology as he was with designing it.

“You don’t wanna join us, Geoffrey?” He wasn’t good at being seductive, but Gavin didn’t really have to be. Sure, he had clumsy mannerisms that were charming enough in their own way, but just the idea of a threesome was usually enough.

“Nah, got a couple of New Employee Training Handbooks and Induction Course Guides to write up now,” Geoff retorted, only to be flipped the bird by his latest hire. Gavin looked around as though offering to the others in the room, but was met by silence, so he shrugged, threw his arm around Michael, and retreated.

“Come on, boy, let’s go celebrate. We’re gonna be working together! We need a team name.”

"Get gone too, Ray. I'll get back to you when I decide what I'm gonna do with you." Geoff said loudly over Gavin's rambling.

Ray nodded, and followed the other two out, predictably to go back to his couch now that the discussion was over. Ryan and Jack stayed, sharing a smile as Geoff groaned out loud, letting his head fall to rest atop his folded arms.

“Hey, Geoff,” Jack started after a minute or two had passed. Ryan was back to staring at the map of San Andreas, his mind too occupied to really focus. He assumed Jack was in a similar state. Sure enough, she was flipping a pen between her fingers, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed.

Geoff grunted.

Jack took that as a sign to continue. “I’m pretty sure Michael asked you for a job about a week after we met him.”

Both of them actually looked up at this, a blank expression on Geoff’s face and confusion written in Ryan’s eyes. Jack sighed.

“We all went out, remember? Well, not surprised you don’t, I guess. This is why I don’t take you out drinking anymore, by the way. I’m pretty sure you said yes, too.”

Geoff just groaned again and moved his arms away so he could let his head thunk on the table. “S’plains a lot,” he mumbled, “Like why he’s always happy to help out ‘round here.” Jack and Ryan only sharing a grin before turning back to their work.

A peaceful half an hour passed as Geoff either napped or literally just sat there for over thirty minutes with his head on the table and his back bent awkwardly before his head shot up, realisation dawning on his face.

“Wait- was that the night-“

“Yes,” Jack said patiently.

“Are you fucking s-“

“Yep.” This one was Ryan, who distinctly remembered the night in question himself. He’d gotten nowhere near as drunk, though, in fairness to Geoff’s memory.

“Oh.” He went quiet, chewing his lip. “Is that why-“

“Yes,” Jack said again.

“Goddamnit Jack, let me finish my sentences.”

“Sorry.” Jack didn’t look very sorry at all, if the grin curling her lips was any indication.

“Is that why they keep mentioning threesomes now?” But Geoff said it in more of a wondering tone, as though speaking to himself. Ryan concealed a huff of laughter behind a cough, unsuccessfully- earning himself another glare.

“Well it isn’t exactly your sparkling personality,” Jack muttered, and Ryan’s laugh was even more obvious this time. Geoff just looked disgruntled, processing the new information slowly while also taking in the insubordination happening around him.

“Alright, you assholes have been in here long enough. Jack, go do whatever it is you do. Ryan, go think up some test or something for the newbie, I have enough to worry about with this heist.”

Jack stood, taking her notes with her, but stood at the door waiting as Ryan stayed put.

“What, you want me to get him to kill some random?”

“Some random, some competition, some bank teller- I don’t care. Just plan something, and plan it far away from me.”

Ryan nodded, biting his lip in thought as he stood up. Jack held the door open for him and he smiled at her in thanks as they both left their boss to sit and contemplate in the silence of the room.

*-*-*-*

Ray was, surprise surprise, on the couch when Ryan and Jack finally approached him. It was reaching two in the morning, but the kid was awake- for that matter, Ryan doesn’t ever really recall having seen him asleep.

“Let’s go for a drive, kid.” 

“What, now?” was the response. “I just started up Animal Crossing again, I have an entire village to weed.”

Ryan blinked.

Ray sighed, and shut the DS, leaving the device on. The older pair watched as he put it on the arm of the couch, making sure he didn’t smuggle it along. It was time to see what Ray could do, and Jack had the information necessary to make this work.

The drive was silent, but mostly comfortable. Ray fiddling with the stylus from his DS- he hadn’t brought the whole thing with him, but he seemed to be the kind of person who constantly needed to be doing something with his hands, if the way he was flipping it between his fingers was anything to go by. He contracted it and pulled it open over and over again- it was one of those collapsible styluses, and it was making Ryan twitch every time he shut it with a snap. Jack just smiled as she noticed, turning to hide her smile.

Luckily it was a relatively short drive and Ryan was pulling into the all-night multi-storeyed carpark within twenty minutes, driving to the top floor and rolling to a stop. Ray gave no indication of knowing where they were, though Ryan knew he was _very_ familiar with the area.

Getting out of the car, he grabbed a suitcase off the backseat, and handed it to Ray as he got out the other side.

“Know your way around a sniper rifle?”

Ray nodded and set to work, and Ryan was glad he wasn’t taking every opportunity to get on his nerves. The suitcase unzipped, and after a few minutes the gun was assembled. Ryan had to allow him that- it was an unfamiliar gun. Using a personal weapon would take a lot less time to set up- Ray had actually been fairly quick.

“Right. Know where we are?” Jack asked from where she was slouched against the car- unlike the rest of them, she hated being up too late, unless it was for a job. Ryan could sympathise with that, he supposed- it sucked having to get up at some ridiculous hour just to train a rookie, especially when it was chilly outside.

Ray nodded.

“Good. Know what we want you to do?”

Ray nodded again, though this time it was with more reluctance. There was no point pretending he didn’t know what was expected of him, or in asking questions.

“Go on, then.”

The kid stood up, and Ryan had to admire the fact that he wasn’t shaking and didn’t appear nervous at all.

“Five bucks if you get a headshot,” Ryan informed Ray, following him to the edge of the rooftop. And under the vague lighting he could see the slight tension slide out of the boy’s shoulders, a smile quirking his lips.

“I prefer getting paid in blowjobs,” he joked, as he propped the rifle up on the barrier between them and a forty-foot drop.

“It’d have to be a fucking good shot,” Ryan muttered.

“How good?” Ray said, curious.

Ryan rolled his eyes inwardly. Were they flirting? Oh god, was that what this was? The kid was barely out of his teens!

“Well, you can always buy about a tenth of a blowjob with that amount, if you know where to go,” and Ryan was glad Jack had cut in because Ray wasn’t saying anything, and Ryan didn’t know what to say. He laughed, and Ray laughed, and the tenseness of the situation eased.  

“Just find me a new supplier and we’ll call it even,” and Ryan blinked and almost missed it. Ray’s finger pulled the trigger, the bullet fired, and a block away, Ray’s dealer crumpled to the floor, blood welling between his eyes under the shine of the streetlight below.

Jack whistled.

“Holy shit.”

Ray was quick to move, pulling away from the barricade and pulling the gun down with him, Jack and Ryan copying the movement.

“I assume you know a guy, because if I find out I killed the only dealer that sells at a reasonable price and doesn’t screw me over for a fucking induction mission, I’m gonna be pissed.”

“We know a guy,” Jack promised, “You just shot his biggest competitor, actually.” Ryan was silent, still vaguely in shock at what he’d seen. He’d seen shots like that before, of course, but never from someone as… innocent-looking as Ray. What had the kid been doing to have to get as good as _that_ \- providing _that_ wasn’t a fluke? It didn’t bear thinking about, at least, not as early in the morning as it was.

They made their way back to the car, Ray holding the gun rather than unpacking it, rubber moving quickly over bitumen as they made their getaway before someone decided to investigate.

*-*-*-*

It was nearing four in the morning when they made it back to the apartment, Geoff waiting for them with his arms folded, sitting on the kitchen island counter. Jack dropped the empty suitcase, Ray putting the gun down on top, stepping back with his hands in the pockets of his purple hoodie.

“Well?” Geoff drawled, and none of them said anything, but instead watched as Ryan pulled out his wallet. Opening the back sleeve, he pulled out a five-dollar note and handed it to Ray, before rifling through his wallet to find two fifty-dollar bills. Passing one to Jack, who smiled and thanked him politely, he threw the second one at Geoff, who grinned, and tucked it into his pocket. Ray just looked mildly confused, until the boss spoke.

“Welcome aboard, kiddo.”

Ray allowed himself a smile, a genuine one, as Geoff slid off the counter and clapped Ray on the shoulder on his way back to his bedroom. Jack and Ryan followed, but were within earshot as Ray called out after them.

“Does this mean I can get that blowjob now?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit guys, I am absolutely blown away by the response to this story so far. Thank you so much to everyone who has read, commented, and left kudos, it means the world to me.  
> As usual, any mistakes, please point them out to me (I was writing this one at 2am so there might be a few, who knows).  
> Til next time!


	3. The Plan

“Rule one,” Geoff says over breakfast the next morning. They’re mostly gathered together around the kitchen, even Ray, who’s decided for the first time to join in the morning routine, and Michael, who had slept over yet again. “You do whatever the fuck I tell you, when I tell you.”

There’s silence for a few moments as Gavin, ever the straggler, slinks into the kitchen and throws himself in a chair. “Yeah,” the latecomer adds. “Unless whatever you tell us is stupi-“

“Rule two,” Geoff continues loudly as though he was never interrupted at all, staring down Ray and Michael where they both sat eating breakfast at the opposite end of the table, “If I don’t tell you anything, you do whatever the fuck Jack tells you, when she tells you.”

“Hey,” Ryan objects mildly, as though he expected differently, as he pours another teaspoon of sugar into his coffee. He’s leaning on his hip against the counter, old navy shirt and baggy jeans hanging off of him as usual. Jack frowns.

“You’re gonna get diabetes,” she says disapprovingly.

“It’s one spoonful of sugar, Jack.”

“Yeah. One spoonful more than the four you already had in there. Can you even taste the coffee anymore?”

“It’s tea.”

“Blasphemy,” Gavin mumbles from where his head’s resting on the table. “Off with his head.”

“ _Rule three_ ,” and it’s going to be one of _those_ mornings, if Geoff’s mood is any indication. “If you’re absolutely sure Jack and I are dead and aren’t ever coming back, you do whatever Ryan tells you. If Ryan’s dead too, and for your sakes I hope he is, then Michael, you’re in charge.”

“Wot?” Gavin yelped, in sync with Ryan’s noise of protest.

Geoff snorts.

“I’m fucking with you. Ray, Michael, and hell, Gavin, this goes for you too- you just do whatever the fuck you’re told by one of us.”

Ray nods, finishing up his bowl of Cheerios, and Michael placates an outraged Gavin (who isn’t very threatening at all when he’s angry, really. Mostly he’s flapping his arms and making bird noises.) Ryan narrows his eyes.

“Pay some fucking rent,” he shoots at Ray.

The Puerto-Rican kid gets up, puts his bowl on the side of the sink, and heads over to the couch like he hasn’t heard.

“Really? _Really?_ ” Ryan isn’t sure if he’s doing it to fuck with him now, or if Ray’s really just not that considerate. “Two inches more and it would’ve been in the right fucking place! How hard is it to put the bowl in the sink?”

He gets no reply, other than Michael’s snickers and Jack’s eye roll. The redhead, now accessorised with a mug of coffee, heads over to the table to sit next to Geoff, leaning with her back against his shoulder and sitting sideways in her chair. Geoff, apparently, still isn’t done.

“Look, assholes, just be happy I decided to hire you. I mean, yeah, it won’t be official until the first heist, which we all know is gonna happen soon, but y’know. Stick to the rules, and shit. We’ll get you guys in on the planning process, too.” He’s met with a distracted wave of a hand from Michael, who suddenly has his lips locked with Gavin (apparently the best method to shut either of them up) and a “Yuh” from the direction of the couch. Ryan waits for a minute to see whether or not the boys are going to separate, but they seem content with not breathing. He pretends not to notice Geoff’s look of interest as Ryan leaves the kitchen, Jack jumping up to follow him as he heads into the ‘office’.

Gavin’s sitting on the table by the time they shut the door, Michael between his legs on a chair and Geoff standing up to approach and Ryan thinks he might need bleach for his brain.

*-*-*-*

“You could just about cut the sexual tension with a pair of scissors,” Jack notes casually as she sits on the middle of the desk so she can reach each individual pile of paper without moving.

 Ryan nods.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll all bang and get over it soon,” he mutters, sifting through paper to find… yep, that’s it.  The notepad in which their ideas have been written, crossed out, written in permanent marker again, crossed out in permanent marker…

He’s busy reading and misses the incredulous look Jack sends his way.

 The plans had been adapted once again now that they had a good number of people. They could afford to hit up another place, if their practice run went well enough- they still had yet to see whether they could all work as a team or not. The heist so far seemed sound… they’d be ready to go in a couple of days, they were just waiting on Jack’s contact to pull through and get them the vehicles they needed, and then they’d be set. Still, he couldn’t help but run his eyes over the plan a few more times, just to be _absolutely sure_.

 It wasn’t until he felt the paper being pulled from his hands that Ryan realised he hadn’t really been reading, just staring out-of-focus at the paper as his mind turned over every possible scenario that could go wrong.

Jack smiled softly at him over the paper.

“Look, we know it’s perfect. You and I both know there’s no reason to be shut in here looking at it.”

Ryan exhaled loudly through his nose, pushing back on his seat so it was on two legs and swaying.

“I know,” he conceded. “It’s just… not being able to do anything, y’know. I’m anticipating it and all I can do is sit here and wait for it and it’s not sitting well.” He didn’t think he needed to mention that he hadn’t slept last night at all. Jack bit her lip, hair falling around her chin as she tipped her head down.

“Maybe we should do our practice run tomorrow night, move it up a bit so we’re not waiting once we get the call,” she mused, and Ryan was grateful to her for not asking questions, for just accepting his explanation. “Would that help?”

Ryan put a hand out to rest on her knee, and she placed hers over the top, calmly. There was nothing explicitly romantic in either gesture, just solidarity, a confirmation that the other was there. “Y-yeah,” it stuck in his throat a little. “I’m just worried about them, too. Ray’s so…” He gestured with the other hand helplessly.

“Young?”

Ryan nodded, and Jack huffed a laugh.

“You know he’s twenty-five, right?”

“You’re joking.”

“That’s what his birth certificate and ID card say.”

“He showed you his birth certificate?” Ryan said, eyebrow raised.

Jack just gave him a “Don’t be stupid, we’re the only smart ones around here and it hurts me when you’re stupid” look.

“Right.” He’d forgotten that Jack ran more intrusive background checks than the police did. “Still, there’s no fucking way that kid’s a day older than twenty-one.”

“Stop calling him a kid, maybe that’ll help,” she admonished lightly, but her hand didn’t let go, just letting him sit and reflect on this new information.

“…Yeah.” Shame he acted like a kid all the fucking time.

*-*-*-*

“Do you have to chew so fucking loud?”

It was five in the morning. If Ray wasn’t careful he was going to wake up Geoff with the amount of noise he was making in eating his cheerios. They were sat in the kitchen, Ryan drinking coffee this time and Ray making himself into a fucking nuisance again.

The kid… _Ray_.. just smiled cheerfully, and the volume of his crunching increased. Ryan made himself endure it until the bowl was gone, refusing to give in, and struggling not to show his relief when Ray finally stood up and went back behind the island counter.

And the eldest nearly cried when he came back with another bowl of cereal.

“Is that why I have to keep replacing the cereal? How much do you need to eat, for God’s sake?!” Ryan was certainly getting better at holding in his anger. Slowly.

“I’m a growing boy,” Ray smiled around a mouthful of half-chewed Cheerios and milk, much to Ryan’s disgust.

“You’re twenty-five.”

“Oh, you found out, did you?” He seemed only mildly interested, throwing another spoonful of cereal into his mouth, slurping loudly.

“I know you’re fucking old enough to reasonably expect you to pay rent and for your own damned food,” Ryan growled, downing the rest of his coffee as Michael entered the kitchen, blinking blearily against the glaring light behind his glasses. Upon seeing the occupants of the table, he stopped, turned, and walked back out.

Ryan put his cup in the sink and filled it with water to let it soak while he emptied the dishwasher of the previous night’s plates, cups and utensils. Humming to himself, he jumped when he noticed Ray suddenly behind him. With wide eyes, he watched as the kid put the bowl on the side of the sink, placed the spoon in it, and turned, walking away, and singing the next part of the song Ryan had been humming.

Ryan could have literally exploded.

*-*-*-*

“Have you even done laundry since you got here? Which, I might add, was _three weeks ago_ , pay some rent like the rest of us, asshole,” Ryan greeted as he walked into the penthouse after a trip to update his life insurance. Ray was lying upside-down again on Ryan’s couch, but the DS was gone. Casting an eye about, Ryan noticed it was plugged in and charging. Apparently the cord didn’t reach far enough for Ray to keep playing while also sitting on the couch.

“Mmh,” was the reply.

“What do you mean, ‘mmh?’ Literally all I’ve seen you do is sit on that couch, play games, smoke, or eat my food for the past god-knows how long.”

“Three weeks, yeah, you said it. I’ve done laundry.”

“Oh, really.” Ryan folded his arms.

“Mmh.”

Neither spoke for a minute.

“When?” Ryan prompted, because he sure as fuck hadn’t seen Ray do laundry, and he mentioned as much.

Ray shrugged- a feat, considering he was upside down.

“Just threw my clothes in with Gavin’s when he wasn’t looking, stole ‘em back when they were dry. Either he hasn’t noticed or doesn’t care.”

That was…

Awfully clever.

 “You fucking _what?”_

“Hey, don’t tell him, a’right? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Since when did Gavin ever actually do laundry?” was Ryan’s question, more to himself but said just audibly enough. Ray snorted.

“Since Geoff told him off for doing what I’m doing.”

“Ah.”

There was an uncomfortable silence, until Ryan realised that the reason it was uncomfortable was because it was comfortable, and therefore it felt wrong. He stood abruptly.

“Well. Have fun, doing whatever the fuck it is you don’t do around here.”

*-*-*-*

Every other instance involving the two of them had to be around at least one other person. It was Michael when Ryan was teaching them how to properly clean weapons- stuff they already knew, of course, but Geoff had insisted on them knowing “The Fake AH Way”, whatever that meant. Personally Ryan just thought Geoff wanted alone time with Gavin, but that was none of his business.

It was Jack and Geoff for lunch, the Terrible Two (or Dynamic Duo as they called themselves) mysteriously absent (read: in Gavin and Geoff’s room.)

When the afternoon came around and it was time to start getting ready for the practice run, everyone was around, but by some stupid reasoning, their test involved two teams of three- Ryan, Gavin and Ray, and Michael, Jack and Geoff. Gavin had taken one look at the two cars once they were in the garage waiting to go, and had almost bolted.

Ryan wasn’t convinced it wasn’t because of the mask he was wearing.

“Nuh uh, no way, Geoff, I’m telling you, there is not enough money coming out of this heist for me to be convinced to do this.”

“And I’m telling you to get the fuck over yourself.” 

Once Ray was out of earshot and loading their car with weapons, a nondescript blue sedan, Ryan asked Gavin what the hell his problem was. He blinked.

“You guys. You’re fucking pissing each other off all the time. Geoff reckons you just need to f-“ and he stopped, eyes wide and hand over his mouth.

“What? What, Gavin?”

The British overgrown child just shook his head.

“I wasn’t s’posed to say anything.”

“Tell me,” Ryan demanded, and Gavin backed up a few steps, which of course made Ryan want to run after him. And he did, taking two long strides, then several more as Gavin squawked and ran around the other side of the powder-blue car.

“Not saying! I promised!” And Gavin was lucky that it was time to go almost straight after that.

Ryan was sick to fucking death of these kids in the crew pissing him off _deliberately._

 *-*-*-*

The ride there was in dead, uncomfortable silence, but the ride home in the stolen police station wagon was full of laughter, cheering, jaunts and claps on the back.

Sure, it was a small take, just a few hundred dollars grabbed from the sweaty hands of the twenty-year-old working the petrol station counter at 2am, but it was enough to increase their spirits greatly. Ray had gotten a few good shots in from the rooftop of a nearby carwash, and that was a few less cops that they’d have to deal with during the real heist.

Michael had come through well too, taking out the cameras with a bit of work on a power box- unfortunately being forced to take down the whole grid and nearly resulting in electrocution, but he’d done well. The neighbourhood was pitch-black and set in confusion for everyone but them. Gavin and Geoff had made a good team once more, working in the background to take down cops without getting in Ray or Michael’s way.

Feeling exhilarated, Ryan just grinned behind the mask he’d picked out just for his more casual jobs, letting wind tear at his hair as they sped down the freeway in the direction of _home_.

They were ready. He could only hope that Los Santos was, too.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, you guys have completely thrown me with your feedback on this story, so I'm gonna try and update it as quickly as possible for you. Thank you everyone for reading, commenting, bookmarking and kudos-ing!


	4. The Heist

“Five minutes, guys,” Jack alerted them.

“Yes, thanks for the fucking update,” Geoff snapped, checking and adjusting the sight on his SMG, absolutely not pointing it anywhere near Ryan as he tested it out. “Because telling us “six minutes” a minute ago wasn’t enough. There’s a giant fucking clock on the wall.”

Ryan dodged out of the way of the gun instinctively, but otherwise didn’t appear bothered as he cleaned his knives in a rhythmic motion. He’d considered coating them with poison, but discarded the idea- Gavin was too jumpy and clumsy, and he didn’t know what Michael and Ray were like yet. It wasn’t a risk they could afford to take. He settled for making sure they were always razor-sharp and cleaned them methodically every time he took them out.

“Chill out, Ryan, my finger isn’t even on the trigger.”

“That’s what you said that time you shot Kerry in the foot,” Ryan muttered.

“That was ages ago,” Geoff insisted. Ryan shrugged.

“Please don’t shoot anyone else in the foot. D’you know how many desk jobs are actually in this industry? One. And Kerry’s a good kid.”

“The fuck is Kerry?” Ray murmured, but didn’t get a response. He shrugged- if it was important, he’d find out.

“Wow, so this is what it’s like five minutes before you guys go destroy the city?” Michael snorted, fiddling with the straps around his legs. Apparently pockets weren’t enough to hold all of the spare ammo he was intending to bring, but hey, it was his decision.

“Three minutes, actually,” Jack said, from where she was standing by the door, dressed in an all-black and keeping an eye on her watch.

“Jack!”

She smiled, before doing a final check to make sure she had absolutely everything she needed, and that her cellphone was at full battery.

(“Why cellphones? We have earpieces,” Ray had asked.

“Soon as you go in the water, though, the earpiece gets fucked. We all have waterproof covers and phones, so that’s our backup. That fails, you’re on your own,” Geoff had informed him.)

“Alright, everyone ready?”

“Jack, I swear to God if you ask one mo-“

“Yeah,” everyone else chorused, Ryan leading the way in standing and pushing their way out of the door. They stood in the orange haze of sunrise, blinking and shielding their eyes against the early morning sun contrasting so strongly from the fluorescent interior lighting.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Gavin announced, as they stood on the porch.

“I’m gonna fucking shoot you.” It was remarkable how much Michael was starting to sound like Geoff.

*-*-*-*

“Approaching target,” Gavin informed cheerfully over the crackle of the radio. “Boys, where you at?”

There was a pause, before the communications kicked in and fed back static, intermingled with Michael’s voice. “We’re… ‘bob,” and what Gavin could make out to be the words “Flying back”.

“Okay, be safe, boy,” and Gavin turned in the passenger seat to face Geoff. “They’re on the way back with the cargo-bob.”

“I know, Gavin,” Geoff sighed, hunched over the steering wheel and to all the world looking like another weary traveller who had been on a far-too-long road trip. “I’m on the same fucking connection. I hear everything you hear.”

Gavin was quiet for a minute. Then, “Ryan and Ray are at the v-“

“I _know_ , Gavin! Put your fucking mask on, we’re gonna go hit the gas station. You got your C4?”

The British kid nodded excitedly as Geoff pulled up to the curb, parking at a 45 degree angle to the indicated lines. Fuck the rules, right?

“Remember the plan?”

“Geoff, I wrote this part of the plan!” The elder just raised an eyebrow, as if to say, “And?”

“Christ,” came over their earpieces again. “Remind me why we put you two assholes on the same team?”

“He speaks!” Gavin states, noting that it was the first time Ray had spoken over the comms.

“Gavin. C4. Petrol Station. Go.” Geoff pushed him with a hand on his lower back as they hurried from the car to the dinky shop that boasted ‘two cans of Mother for just $3.99’ attached to the petrol station.

*-*-*-*

“You alright?” Ryan narrowed his eyes as he put a hand on Ray’s shoulder, concerned despite himself. Ray just nodded.

“No, seriously, what’s wrong with you? You not feeling right?” And really Ryan should probably be more concerned that the kid was nervous because he planned on turning on them- after all, they still didn’t know why he was so interested in being in the crew.

“M’ fine,” Ray insisted, unconvincingly. Ryan shrugged.

“Alright, well, start acting like it, _love._ We’re meant to be on a tour here. Ready to go back out?”

Ray nodded, and that was enough for him. Ryan led him out of the bathroom and back into the entrance hall to the winery, where two bookings under the names Mr. and Mr. Harrison were waiting for them. They joined the tour group easily and waited for the host to show them around, and give them all the information they were going to need to pull this off.

*-*-*-*

“This is so fucking cool!” Michael hollered into his headset, and Jack could only grin beside him. It was apparently his first time flying in something other than a jet, and she was glad she got to show it to him- there was nothing like the thrill of being in the air and in control, whether she experienced it vicariously or not.

“Glad you approve, but you better be getting ready to jump out,” she warned, and he nodded, the movement seeming to shake his entire body with his enthusiasm. He was like a puppy, and Jack could only smile.

“Good to see the flare we planted before we got the ‘bob is working,” Michael said in reference to the plume of orange smoke emanating from the street a couple of kilometres below them. “They’re going pretty fast… might wanna get lower if you want me on top of it.”

“On it,” she replied with a curt nod, before dropping the chopper the rest of the distance.

“Okay, guys, open channel now,” Michael informed the others, flipping a switch on the earpiece he’d wired. “Hit the switch and it’ll be open mic. Later, Jack.” With a smirk and a lazy two-fingered salute, Michael threw himself from the plane and deployed his chute, Jack pulling up and away to avoid crashing into the highway. A loud cheer over the radio indicated his success, and was followed by three gunshots.

On the street below, Michael dropped on his stomach to the top of the armoured truck and grasped for the edges of the roof to make sure he didn’t slide dangerously when the vehicle spun out of control, the death of both the driver and passenger making it veer into traffic.

Luckily, citizens of Los Santos had grown to develop quick reaction times and the truck went mostly undamaged until it hit the highway barrier. The flare shot away at the impact, and Michael let himself slip off the top and rolled. Wrenching the deceased passenger and driver both out of their seats, he got in.

“Alright, Jack, I’m taking her north a bit and I’ll go offroad, just follow me. Gotta lose any cops,” he muttered, shifting the box into gear.

*-*-*-*

“ _Give me the fucking money!”_ Geoff shouted over the sounds of someone-Michael- yelling about his success over his earpiece. The clerk moved as though to reach under the counter, but Geoff was too quick. A gunshot rang out and the guy behind the counter screamed in pain.

“Come on, you don’t need both hands, fucking- if you take more than ten seconds to give me the money I’ll make sure it’s your head next time!” The clerk moved slightly faster, and Geoff fought the urge to sigh. Wednesdays, huh.

“Geoff, we’re good!”

“Alright, honey, be there in just a minute!” He snarked, grabbing the plastic bag of money thrown over the counter, and shooting the mid-forties man before him in the head. Geoff vaulted the counter and grabbed the rest of the money from the till. “Fucker thought he’d get away with lying to me,” he grumbled.

“Geoff!” And Gavin didn’t sound worried, just hurried. “Geoff, the cops are almost here, come _on!”_ And now that it’d been pointed out, he, too, could hear the approaching sirens.

“Fuck! Alright, coming, go start the car and bring it round, go, go, go!”

The Bifta screeched to a halt outside the door and Geoff ran, jumping in just as red and blue flashing caught the corner of his eye.

“Fucking _go!”_ Gavin floored it, swerving to the right and narrowly avoiding cops to hit the train tracks.

“Reckon that was a good six or seven hundred, boys!” Geoff shouted over the channel, flicking the switch on his own piece and leaning over to do the same to Gavin’s.

“Great, Geoff, now can you shoot so I don’t bloody die?”

*-*-*-*

“And this is a 1999 Screaming Eagle Cabernet Sauvignon, a classic, really,” the lady leading the tour said, her nose pointed in the air as she flourished at the samples. “These can sell for around two thousand dollars a bottle, if you find the right buyer.” She simpered, and Ray bit the inside of his cheek.

“Is that why we paid nearly two grand for a ticket to this fucking tour?” Ryan huffed quietly and Ray held back a snicker. Granted, they didn’t really seem to fit in- or, at least, Ray didn’t, but Ryan’s well-cut suit certainly made him look like he could be suited to the lifestyle of drinking expensive wine and playing golf. Ray had never felt more out-of-place. He could only be grateful that heterosexuality wasn’t so important to these classes any more, otherwise this would never had worked.

“Here,” And Ray started, the lady pushing a sample glass under his chin and one under Ryan’s. Ryan took it with a small nod of thanks, and swilled the glass.

“Uh, no thanks,” Ray fought a stammer, and Ryan coughed. “I. Uh. I’ve had this one before,” he finished lamely, and the woman gave him a doubtful look, but turned away without a word- and more importantly, still with the glass.

“What the hell are you doing?” Ryan whispered as they lurked at the back of the group. He paused, waiting for the sound of an explosion to fade from his earpiece so that he could be heard. “It’s a wine tasting tour. You’re expected to try the fucking wine.”

Ray flushed an angry red and stared at the floor.

“I’m waiting,” was all Ryan had to say, as the tour group began to move towards the next area.

“I can’t.” It was barely a murmur and the older man had to strain to catch it.

“What?”

“I don’t drink, Ryan.”

“You fucking _what?”_

*-*-*-*

Michael grinned with glee as the back doors of the armoured truck burst open just in time for Jack to land the cargo-bob. Jack sprinted to meet him, and helped heft money from the van to the helicopter. They couldn’t risk losing it once they took off.

“Ugh, legwork,” Jack muttered sardonically, and Michael snorted.

“This is literally the only time you’re even getting out of the chopper, quit your bitching.” He heard Geoff snort, and remembered the open mics.

“Also, what good is an open and private channel if two operatives don’t open their mics?” he grumbled, hoping the reminder would get Ryan and Ray to do as much. He got no reply.

Several grand stashed aboard a good few minutes later, the pair slammed the truck doors shut but kept them unlocked. Michael jumped back in the chopper, pulling on another parachute just in case, Jack jumping up into the pilot seat.

“Now what?” the brown-haired boy asked as Jack remained stationary.

“Now, we wait for confirmation that we can move on to the next phase.”

*-*-*-*

“Train’s coming!”

Gavin swore, more an amalgamation of heavily-accented half-words that didn’t really make any sense, but the sentiment was there.

“Get ready to jump out, then,” was the only coherent sentence he uttered as he sped away from the train coming up from behind them. “Got the money and the RPGs? We’re gonna have to leave the Bif.”

“Yeah,” Geoff pointed to the over-the-shoulder bag he’d thrown on when he’d dug around in the back seat of the car, mere minutes after blowing up the petrol station. The car radio was spamming alerts for citizens and police alike about them, but really it was just confirming that they were on three stars on the priority list, and that nothing had happened down Ray and Ryan’s end. No one else was being mentioned, at any rate. “The Bif’ll be fine, it’s insured.”

“I hope so. Jump.”

At the order, Geoff flung himself out the side of the open car as Gavin did the same on the other side, just in time for the train to catch up and send the poor orange Bifta sky-high.

No time to reflect on that, though- Geoff and Gavin simultaneously grabbing for an empty bucket on the train and throwing themselves aboard.

“Woo-hooooo!” Gavin shouted, and Geoff just let himself lay on the bottom of the bucket, winded. He was getting too old to be reasonably doing this.

“We’ve still got cops, but we’re on the train,” the Brit informed, and Geoff let himself sit up, pulling two RPG’s out of the bag and throwing one to Gavin.

“You know what to do. Jack, time to move. Ray, Ryan, I hope you can fucking hear me, you’ve gotta get in and do it _now._

*-*-*-*

“Is there another bathroom around here?” Ryan asked patiently for the second time as they reached the wine cellars. The tour guide puffed up pompously.

“All attendees were requested to be sure not to interrupt the tour,” she reminded him again, and Ryan nodded hastily to cut off the lecture he didn’t want to hear once more.

“I know, and I’m sorry, I wouldn’t ask, but my.. _husband_ , isn’t well, he looks like he might be sick, look at him,” he persuaded, and Ray played his part very well, looking sallow and sorry for himself. Which, you know, he did feel quite a bit.

She sighed.

“There’s a bathroom down the hallway, second on the left, first on the right. It’s used by,” and here she shuddered, but continued, “the other staff- use it at your own risk.”

“Thank you,” Ryan said, relieved.

“Thank me by not letting him throw up on my floors,” she said, and god, he didn’t want to kill her, but he kinda hoped she might be an unexpected casualty of the upcoming heist. Shaking his head, he grabbed Ray by the hand and pulled him down the hallway she’d gestured to. Ignoring the “Staff Only” sign, he rounded the corner.

Ray breathed in deeply and shook his head in a futile attempt to forget the two sips of alcohol he’d stomached, and found himself against the wall, pinned there by two arms against his shoulders, courtesy of one very angry-looking Ryan. He gulped inaudibly.

“You mean to fucking tell me,” Ryan began, and had to pause, either to sort out his exact thoughts or to make sure he didn’t snap and _actually_ murder the kid. “You _knew_ we were coming to a _vineyard,_ and you didn’t fucking think to tell me that _you don’t drink?_ What the _fuck_ were you thinking _?!”_ He tried to keep his voice down but God it was hard.

Ray was rather sick of getting pinned to walls, to be honest, and was about to open his mouth to say as much. Ryan apparently didn’t want to hear what he had to say, and proved this by punching the wall next to Ray’s head.

“Fuck,” the elder cursed, shaking his hand and pulling away from the Puerto-Rican to nurse his slight pain.

“Ryan,” and dark eyes shot to meet Ray’s behind his glasses, “I know you’re pissed, but we’ve gotta get this done, the others..”

The blonde nodded, biting his lip so hard that a bead of blood rose to the surface- and _god_ , that must have been Ryan’s colour, because for the three seconds it was there it was all Ray could do to stop himself from leaning forwards to lap it away and sooth the cut with his tongue- before leaning forward and flipping the switch on Ray’s earpiece.

Doing the same to his own, Ryan backed away, closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and dropped his other hand, freeing Ray.

“Alright,” he muttered to himself. “This is Team Cheerios,” forcing himself not to roll his eyes at the stupid fucking team name Gavin had given them, “And we’re heisting.”

Then, in one smooth, practiced motion, he pulled a flare gun from his pocket, and shot a flare at the floor in the middle of the floor.

Directly under a smoke alarm.

Ray had a split second to react before the system began screaming loudly, water distributing from sprinklers affixed to the ceiling.

The good thing about businesses like this is that the security systems are all wired together, including smoke detectors. In the event of a fire beginning in, say, the kitchens behind the café area, the entire building would be expected to evacuate. Unfortunately, it was also wired to indicate which alarm had tripped the system, which meant they had to move, _immediately._

A voice rang out over the speakers informing customers and staff alike of the correct fire-evacuation policies in place, including where to evacuate to. Intensive studying of the floor plan provided them by Kerry (who somehow had access to the entire fucking _city_ like some shitty Watch_Dogs game) meant that if they took two lefts and a right they’d be in the security rooms.

Ray charged down the hallway in the right direction, not looking back as they split, Ryan heading back to the cellar and grabbing a box, simultaneously pulling his Micro-SMG from the concealed sleeve at the inner lining of his jacket.

*-*-*-*

“ _Alright, this is Team Cheerios… and we’re heisting.”_

Jack kicked the chopper over into gear and within seconds they were hovering a few feet above ground, swaying over to hook the armoured truck.

“This is team Jackass, we copy, heading to your location now,” she murmured into the mic, the boy beside her in the co-pilot’s seat almost vibrating with excitement, despite his job almost being over now. The pull of the truck was noticeable but wasn’t enough to keep them grounded, and they soared into the air, heading west towards Tongva Hills.

*-*-*-*

“Yeah, this is team “fuck we need a team name,” we’re a bit away yet but we’re mostly clear. Armour’s still holding and haven’t taken any hits yet, should be about two minutes until we hit the bend.” Geoff reported from where he crouched, using the side of the bucket as cover to launch rockets off the train to knock down police choppers and SWAT-vans alike.

_“I’m guessing all those sirens I can hear are you guys,_ ” Jack laughed, and Geoff grinned.

“You wanted us to draw the heat, don’t get mad ‘cause we’re doing our job.”

“Aw, yeah!” Gavin shouted into dusk, lighting up the sky as he took down yet another chopper. “Anyone hear how much of a priority we are right now?”

“ _Still three.”_

“Are you kidding me?” The younger man pouted. “We worked so hard on this too!”

“ _They’ve just reported the fire alarm at the vineyards, too, you’re lucky it’s far enough away. Emergency services will be about twenty minutes, boys, you should be clear by then, right?”_

“Gavin and I’ll be there by then, we’ll be fine. Life check?”

Waiting for each member of the crew to reply was a torturous few seconds. Geoff hated having to ask that question, but so far he’d only ever received affirmations that everyone was alive. He was glad Ray and Ryan had responded, too.

“Gav, our bike’s just up there,” Geoff reminded. Gavin nodded and stood, helping Geoff up and covering him with another shot to a police car that had gotten close enough to shoot at the couple.

“I swear to fuck, next heist? No jumping on and off of moving vehicles,” the crew boss grouched, and, in sync with his partner, jumped once more.

*-*-*-*

“One goon? You serious?” Ray sounded almost _disappointed_ that he’d only had to kill one guy in the fight to take over the security room. “Michael, what am I doing here?”

Ryan nodded to himself as he confirmed everyone was safe, vaguely paying attention as Michael rambled off instructions on how to fuck up the security system. He hid behind a cellar box, grip steady on his gun as he checked the room was empty.

“Clear,” he breathed, and the room didn’t respond.

“And… _yeah!”_ Ray cheered, echoed by a “Told you so!” from Michael’s comms. The sirens wailing increased in volume, changing from a continuous ‘beep’ to a full ‘ _woop´_ noise, apparently indicating the severity of the incident. “That should have everyone out, Ryan, grab as much as you can, I’ll be there in a sec.”

Ryan nodded, searching the hallway leading to the cellar looking for… yep, found it. Grabbing the electric-yellow sacktruck, he began hefting boxes, joined moments later by the kid.

“Nice,” Ray remarked.

“Figured they’d need one to get all this shit in,” Ryan shrugged.

“Yeah, but how do we get it back up? Lifts don’t work in the event of a fire.”

And _oh_ , there it was. The one thing they’d overlooked.

The horror in Ryan’s eyes most likely reflected his own.

*-*-*-*

“Didn’t you guys look at the fucking floor plan?” Michael almost screamed, and Jack nearly veered in surprise at the sudden outburst. Getting it back under control with sweating palms, she bit her lip. What could they do?

“We’re gonna be dropping the truck in about thirty seconds, ETA on Gavin and Geoff is about two minutes, and Emergency Services is about fifteen away in traffic,” she reminded everyone.

“ _Yes, thanks Jack! Just what I…”_

“ _Ryan?”_ That was Geoff, and Michael and Jack exchanged a look.

“ _I just… We’ll have to carry them. You up for it, squirt?”_

The chopper was over the vineyard at this point, truck dangling dangerously close to the flat rooftop as Jack didn’t know whether to drop it or not yet. She was waiting on Geoff and Gavin or Ryan and Ray or just _anyone_ who could grab it without it being stolen.

“ _Just grab the most expensive ones,”_ Ray decided, and that was that. Jack nodded in unseen approval at the idea, catching sight of a motorbike approaching at a ridiculously high speed in her peripheral vision.

*-*-*-*

“Someone order a party?” Gavin shouted as he clung to Geoff, the bike roaring up the hill and skidding to a stop at the back entrance to the winery. It was a little ridiculous that the evacuation points all met in the clearing opposite the front door to the building, as it let people like them get into all sorts of trouble.

“ _Fuck yes! Go, Ray!”_ And the back door was flung open from the inside, Gavin and Geoff never happier to see the kid before. They both sprung from the back of the Sanchez, Gavin with awesome (read; terrible) helmet-hair, Geoff leaving his on.

“ _Make way!”_

Gavin looked up in time to push Geoff forwards and dodge himself as the armoured truck was plonked on the cobblestone pavers just before the back doors, mere metres away. Ray certainly appreciated the gesture, grabbing a box from just inside the door and shoving it at Gavin.

“Sweet, sweet alcohol!” Was all Geoff had to say as he wrenched the truck doors back open.

“ _We’re meeting you at the rendezvous point, while we haven’t got any stars,”_ shouted Jack over the radio, fighting to be heard over the chopper blades. The cargo-bob had been a little strained by the heavy truck and wasn’t afraid to show it- time to bow out for a minute.

“ _Good luck!”_

“Aww, love you too, boy,” Gavin blew a kiss in the general direction of the chopper, nearly dropping the box. Geoff took it from him with a scowl, putting it in the back of the truck safely.

“ _Uh, guys, don’t wanna worry you, but Gavin and Geoff brought a bit of heat- once they’re found you’ll be in deep shit. You’ve got about three minutes.”_

_“Fuck!”_ That was Ryan. “ _Gavin, load the truck. Ray, get ready for a firefight. Geoff, help me.”_

_“_ Coming!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Ready when you are.”

*-*-*-*

Ryan could only hope they weren’t being sarcastic. He’d loaded up three boxes of the most expensive stuff he could find, and was half-way through carrying one box up the stairs as he ran into Geoff.

“Ray locked down the rest of the building, so the only point of entry is the back door,” Ryan huffed, Geoff nodding- that had been part of the plan. “So I’m gonna go for the tills. I’m gonna take this box to Gav, and I need you to grab the other couple.”

Geoff nodded, and this- _this is what Ryan loved about the crew_. Yes, Geoff was the boss, irrevocably in charge- but when shit went down and they had to adjust the plans, he was happy to go along with whatever was suggested, regardless of who said it.

He handed his box to Gavin at the top of the staircase, nodded to him, turned and legged it across the entranceway, pulling his mask out of another concealed pocket. He smiled as he fixed it in place, protecting his identity from those who were outside while he looted the tills.

He didn’t know what buttons to press once he found the processing area, so settled for shooting them open, grinning to himself as he pulled notes in the forms of fifties and hundreds, lining his pockets with whatever he could grab.

 

*-*-*-*

“Uh, guys, that doesn’t look pretty,” Ray said upon seeing red and blue flashing alternatively across the hill. “The cavalry’s here.”

Gavin swore again, chucking the box he had into the back of the truck. Geoff was halfway up the stairs with the next box already, and echoed the sentiment over the radio.

“Is it worth getting another box?” He asked hesitantly, wanting input. It was getting dark out and this wasn’t going quite to plan, he didn’t want to put his crew under unwanted stress or in unnecessary danger.

“No, Geoff, if you’re leaving on bike, you’ve gotta leave _now_ ,” the kid with the sniper rifle insisted as the boss made it up the stairs. Gavin grabbed the last box and put it in the back, before slamming the doors and throwing down the locking bars, grateful to Michael for not damaging them beyond repair. And those red and blue lights were a lot closer.

He hesitated.

“You’ll be okay?”

Ray nodded.

“It’s you they want, but they won’t be pleased when they see what we’ve done either,” he shrugged, not pulling away from the sight on his gun. Geoff would have clapped him on the shoulder, but he didn’t fancy getting shot in the off chance that Ray was jumpy.

He looked at Gavin.

“Time to go.”

Gavin hesitated too, but followed orders, mounting the back of the bike behind Geoff. A leather boot kicked the starter and they were off, one or two of the cop cars veering off to chase them.

That left Ray with four cars.

“Uh. Ryan.”

“ _I might not be there for a bit.”_

“ ** _What?_** _”_

_“I found their safe.”_

“Ryan, the cops are here, I can’t hold them all,” and even as he spoke he was lining up the second shot, one cop slumped against the passenger seat of the squad car, dead.

“ _Get in the truck.”_

Ray agreed that that seemed logical, and he could do it, too, if he snuck around. The window would wind down if he started the engine, he could shoot from there. Seeing the appeal, he went to do as he’d been asked, narrowly avoiding a shot to the leg as he rolled from his potted-plant cover to the back of the truck.

“I’m in,” he told Ryan as he dove into the seat, slamming the door and locking them once he was in. The keys were left in the ignition, and he thanked Michael aloud as he turned the engine over. Putting the window down a few inches let him aim well enough to take down another two, but that left four and more incoming- and this was another point that they’d forgotten.

They were only a couple of miles from Fort Zancudo, the fucking military base.

“Ryan, come on,” Ray called over the comms, keeping his head but still impatient.

“ _Another minute. I almost got this._ ”

“Ryan, we don’t have another minute!”

“ _I got it! I go- holy fuck, that’s a… there’s gotta be a mill in here at least.”_

“ ** _Ryan_** _!”_ And now some of that impatience was slipping through because suddenly there were helicopters and SWAT vans and his window was breaking, unbreakable glass not so good when targeted by multiple machine-gun wielding officers.

_“I got some, I’m coming now, just hold on!”_

He was _just holding on_ as well as he could, but they were getting around him, officers everywhere, and he could only thank the fact that the truck had lasted as long as it had.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Ryan let out as he suddenly realised just how bad the situation was. “ _Ray… Ray. Get out of here.”_

_“ **WHAT?!”**_ And Ray had never seen such self-sacrificial bullshit as this, especially not when he was concerned. “ ** _No fucking way! I’m not leaving you here, asshat, you’re part of the crew!”_**

“Ray,” and he realised he could hear Ryan without the comms, because he was in the doorway with his Micro-SMG, taking down as many as he could. “No use getting us both killed, fucking _go!”_ The shout was accompanied by the sound of glass shattering, the window of the truck finally giving, and Ray had just enough time to pull his arm back in the truck.

The move probably saved his life.

Something white-hot burned in his right arm, tension fizzing up his arm with a frisson of pain and he let out a yell. He’d been _fucking shot_ \- would have hit his chest if his arm hadn’t been in the way. Ducking below the level of the door, he returned fire at random with his left hand, gun supported on the bottom of the window, and Ryan was screaming at him now from the doorway (and he didn’t owe the guy anything but honestly the only reason he was still so intrigued in staying with the crew was because of Ryan, and he’d be damned if it be on him if the fucker died) but he didn’t leave, standing his ground.

Seconds later, Ryan shouted in anger, rolled behind the back of the truck on the driver’s side, and Ray unlocked the doors in time for him to throw it open and get in. Luckily the window was intact on that side, and wordlessly the elder pressed his SMG into Ray’s shaking grip. He dropped his favourite rifle in favour of the faster killer, and was much happier to mow down cops with that.

Ryan revved the engine, mouth grit in a flat line, and floored it down the hill, dodging grape vines in the faint light emitting from the headlights as they left half the police force dead and the other half in the dust.

Ray breathed in a sigh of relief, regretting the way the action jolted his shoulder. The pain throbbed in his bicep, and he wondered idly in the silence if it had hit muscle.

It wasn’t really silent in the car, though. Ryan was dead still other than his hands, driving the car to the meeting point on Chumash Beach, a few police cars but nothing really to worry about in the rearview mirror as they lost heat. But while Ryan had nothing to say, Geoff was practically screaming over the radio, Jack’s worried tones echoing- he assumed they had all met up safely.

“ _Life check! Ray, Ryan, fucking **life check!”**_

“We’re here,” Ray breathed, and the line went dead for a moment, before roaring back.

“ _You fucking assholes, we thought you were dead!”_

_“Fuck you guys!”_

_“Ryan, what the hell was all that abou-“_

_“You better be alive because I’m gonna fucking kill you wh-“_

_“_ ETA is less than a minute,” was all Ryan had to say at this point, and Ray slumped back against the seat. “We’re not bringing many cops, but be ready.”

Even as he spoke he was turning off the road and the truck was skidding across sand, past groups of people gathered around bonfires pointing and talking about the spectacle of the cargo-bob and motorbike parked on the beach. They pulled up to a stop, suddenly, two cars that had been pursuing them flying forwards, unable to stop in time, into the surf. Ryan pushed his door open and jumped to the ground, and Gavin was nice enough to open Ray’s door for him. Ray slumped, much less gracefully, sliding out of the car with one hand clutched to his shoulder.

“You got shot!?” Gavin yelped, catching Ray and making sure he didn’t hit the ground. “Bloody hell, Ray, why didn’t you say something?!”

Ray said nothing, but Ryan rounded on them, Geoff and Michael on the beach before them keeping the straggling cops at bay.

“You- you f-“ And apparently Haywood had nothing to say, but looked close to screaming.

“Guys, get the cargo in the chopper, my arms are getting tired,” Michael called, and everyone seemed to come back to life. Jack was still in the cargo-bob, motor running and ready for a fast escape. Gavin escorted Ray to the passenger seat, pushing him down and strapping him in. Ray was a little woozy from this point, and Jack looked like she had a million things to say, but she resisted- there was nothing they could do until they were back home or in a safehouse. Ryan and Gavin ran the boxes back and forth, pulling everything they’d stolen out of the truck and putting it in the back. Still under the cover of Michael and Geoff, they got in the bob, and seeing their chance, the remaining two joined them.

As Jack took off into the night, Ryan pulled out the RPG from the back that Gavin had left two rockets in. Setting his sights on the armoured truck, he pulled the trigger, fire reflecting in his eyes as the vehicle exploded.

“Well, we’ve just gotta get back to the apartment, and then we’re done- I can’t believe we’re all still alive after all that shit,” Geoff remarked, earning himself a dirty look from the Dynamic Duo- or ‘Team Nice Dynamite’, as they’d apparently discussed at length.

*-*-*-*

“Okay, so other than Ray getting shot, I’d say that was a success,” their boss reported later that night, reaching around two thirty in the morning, as he stood in their office. More chairs had been added, admitting everyone. Kerry had come past around midnight with a girl named Lindsay, who had done a fairly sound job of patching up Ray’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure how legal her practices were, or the ‘medication’ she’d prescribed him was, but hey, he felt a lot better- that made her a doctor in his book.

“Ryan, good initiative with the safe, you made us another half a mill,” Geoff continued, not noticing or not caring about the tension around his protégé’s shoulders. “All up, everyone performed their roles to the best of their ability, we made a massive-arsed profit, and we’re all alive.”

Ryan stood and left the room without a word.

Eyes fixed on Ray from around the room, and it took him a moment to notice, jolting as he did.

“Wha?”

“Go talk to him,” Gavin suggested.

“What, me?” When no one answered to the contrary, he frowned, trying to work out why- and okay, the drugs weren’t exactly helping his mental acuity.

“Yes, you.” This time it was Jack, and he frowned at her for good measure too.

“Why?”

“God, he’s fucking dumb jacked-up on Nyquil,” Michael snorted.

“Michael,” Gavin scolded.

“Maybe it’s not a good idea. Let him calm down, wait ‘til Ray’s not drugged up, all that,” Geoff mused, hand under his chin.

Ray stood.

If Geoff thought it was a bad idea, it had to be the right thing to do, right? That statement didn’t make a lot of sense once he’d thought it, but he knew what he meant.

Hm. Maybe he should leave it.

He left the room.

Turned out he didn’t have to go far. Ryan was pacing the hallway outside of the door and started as Ray exited the room, offering the older man a half-smile.

“Hey.”

Ryan made an aborted noise in the back of his throat, arms folded as he paced.

“What’s wrong with you?” Ray asked curiously. Like, seriously. The guy hated his guts, and now he was grumpy again, and he wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten there.

Ryan growled, but kept pacing, head bowed. One hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, and Ray absent-mindedly pushed his glasses back up his face.

“Is this because I got shot?”

He shouldn’t have been- and really, he wasn’t- that surprised when he found himself once again pinned against a wall by an infuriated psychopath. Ray was only grateful he was being held by one hand to his chest, and that his shoulder hadn’t smacked the wall.

 He really didn’t have healthy habits, did he? Vague reflection on how he ended up in this position yet again was cut short as Ryan snapped.

And it wasn’t graceful, like Ray had imagined it would be when he finally did.

“You, you are a fucking _problem_.” The kid opened his mouth, undoubtedly to retort in kind or to protest the accusation, but Ryan didn’t let him. “First, you come in here like you own the place and use all my stuff, then you want a job. Then you’re flirting with me, or, I think you were flirting with me? And then you’re back to being a pain in the ass. Then you get a job, under the _strict provisions_ that you _do exactly what you’re told_. And then we go on a job and you _don’t do what you’re told_ , and then don’t even have the decency to tell me that my fucking actions went and let you get _shot!”_ Ryan was full-blown yelling by now, mouth close to Ray’s face, and Ray could only dully notice how much he really liked Ryan’s angry face, or,  well, all his faces, really, but this was something special because it was something only _he_ could really invoke.

“You’re not even fucking listening to me, are you, Ray?!”

And that made Ray blink back into focus. And smile.

“Wh-“ Ryan couldn’t keep up, because here he was giving the kid a fucking _lecture_ , and he was just _smiling like a fucking lunatic_. “I don’t-“

“You called me Ray, and it wasn’t as a joke,” the kid said softly, stupidly, definitely feeling the dampening of the drugs on his brain- but he was never sharper when it came to _this_. Ryan. He and Ryan.

“It’s your fucking name, isn’t it? God, you- I don’t even know why I’m bothering,” Ryan’s anger was back. “You just don’t care at all that you could have died today, because you didn’t obey orders, and really the bullet to the shoulder was the best you could have gotten, you don’t even care that I almost fucking got you killed!”

Oh.

That was the problem.

And Ray smiled harder at that, because if Ryan felt some sense of guilt, it meant that he cared, at least the slightest bit.

Ryan huffed, still pissed, but more like an angry house-cat than a wrathful lion now.

“You don’t give a shit about dying at all, do you?”

Ray only grinned in response.

“Then tell me, Ray Narvaez Junior,” Ryan pulled away a little, but now his eyes were on Ray’s and holding contact, rather than staring at the floor. “What _do_ you care about? Pissing me off? Making my life hell? Annoying the crap out of me?” The hand on his blood-stained shirt tightened slightly.

“Yes.”

Ryan blinked.

“You care about annoying me? Getting under my skin?” _Making sure I got out of that vineyard alive?_

Ray nodded with what room he had.

Ryan blinked again.

Then his eyes narrowed, and suddenly he was closer than ever before, and Ray could see the dark smudges under his eyes hinting at years of insomnia, the flecks of brown in his eyes, the slight tan where the mask he wore in daylight cut away so he could see.

“You fucking infuriate me.”

And Ryan’s lips were solid against Ray’s like he’d hoped they would be, pushing and firm but soft enough to slide against Ray’s easily, tongue running across the younger man’s lower lip and demanding access as though it would never be granted, hand pulling him closer from the wall even as the weight of Ryan’s body held him firm against the support, and Ray raising his hands to grab fistfuls of the back of Ryan’s leather jacket, and flinching in pain and recoiling as he realised the full pain of the bullet wound.

Ryan leapt away from him like Ray had caught fire, sweeping a hand through his blonde hair. Ray took a deep breath, but waited patiently for Ryan to decide whether to fight or flee.

Ray bit his lip as Ryan strode down the hallway away from him, letting his head fall back against the wall with a soft _thud_.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I'm so sorry, I said I would be quick but then uni happened and life got in the way. So here's a double-length chapter to apologize.   
> I'm also sorry, a lot happens in this chapter but it happens kinda slowly. I've made it as interesting as I can so hopefully you enjoyed it :)   
> Your comments, kudos, bookmarks and general support means all the world to me, thank you, you amazing people.   
> There's one chapter left to go now, probably just going to be smut and something to finish off the story properly with.   
> Thank you! ♥


	5. The Take

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, once again I'm so sorry, life's been pretty shit at the moment, but at least now the story is finished (this is why I don't do long stories; my update schedule is all over the place.)  
> This chapter is about half plot, half smut, so if that's not your thing, that's cool, but you might not wanna read this one.  
> (Also I'm sorry for inaccuracies, I did my best, but I'm asexual and usually find sex scenes uncomfortable to write. I tried, though.)  
> Hope you enjoy :)

 

“You got an electronic banking system?”

Ray looked up from the couch where he was sitting, unfortunately for him, with his feet tucked up under him and leaning against the side of the arm. The bullet wound was, naturally, taking its time to heal and that meant that sitting upside-down or even throwing himself down on the couch was generally a bad time all round.

He’d been playing Smash Bros. via his DS with Gavin but knew the question was directed at him when he noticed Ryan was looking at him pointedly.

“Uh, why?” Not really thinking of much else beyond the fact that this was the first time Ryan had so much as looked at him in four and a half days- he hadn’t even thought Ryan was still around, to be honest.

The night in the hallway hadn’t happened, as far as Ryan was concerned, and Ray didn’t feel inclined to bring it up again. As long as Ryan avoiding him didn’t impact on his performance, what did it matter.

_It didn’t matter. Not a bit. Not to him, hahaha, as if it mattered to Ray what Ryan thought of him._

“’Cause Geoff asked me to ask you,” Ryan said impatiently, hands on the back of the leather sofa Geoff had put in the lounge room.

“S’not what he means, Rye,” Gavin interrupted, but fell silent as his eyes fixed on the screen of his red-and-black device.

Ryan sighed, obviously not wanting to talk to Ray any more than he had to.

“Because we sorted out the cuts, and some of us prefer getting the money electronically so we’re not carrying around a shittonne of money.”

“Oh.” Ray blinked. “Yeah, I guess, I’ll, uh, I’ll go give Geoff my info then?” He made to get up off the couch, left hand clenching as the movement made his shoulder tense and pain ebbed through him before fading as quickly as it came. His wound was definitely healing, slowly.

“You do that,” and Ray missed the short scowl that crossed Ryan’s face, before he left the room.

*-*-*-*

“I don’t think I’ve seen that much money in my account in total,” Ray said later that night over a glass of orange juice. Pulp-free, because that’s all that was in the apartment (“You monster,” Gavin had grimaced at the mere suggestion of drinking orange juice with pulp.)

“Don’t spend it all in one place,” Jack’s lips curled around her pint of beer.

“There’s more where that came from, too.” Geoff smirked- three hundred grand wasn’t much, in the long run. He had a bottle of wine in hand- _“It’s fine, there’s still four boxes of wine, what, you really think I went through all that shit just to sell the alcohol?”-_ and was slowly making his way through it. They were taking the opportunity to relax and enjoy the success of the heist now that the money had been processed.

“Pay some fucking rent and get off my sofa,” Ryan growled, but went ignored once more, none of them paying him so much as a cursory glance.

“Should probably invest it or some shit,” Michael added to the conversation. Everyone stared at him for a bit.

“Never mind.” He added quickly. “Fucking spend it all. Buy a house. Buy a car. Who cares, right?”

“Yolo,” Ray said in a serious tone, and they all groaned in unison, bar Ryan, who bit his lip. It was frustrating- pulling reactions out of the guy was harder than pulling Ray away from his DS.

“Speaking of,” Jack said slowly, only to be interrupted by a loud protest from Geoff. She continued anyway, “We should maybe think about a bigger place. One with more bedrooms and more space for us to work with.”

“What?” Gavin asked sharply, pulling his arm away from where it had been around Geoff’s neck as he sat up further on the leather couch. “Wait, Jack, what- we haven’t talked about this with them, yet! Ryan still-“

“Ryan will get the fuck over himself,” Jack insisted, only to be shot a glare from the man in question. “As will Geoff.” Said boss was now sliding down the couch out of his seat, legs holding him up as he slipped into what had to be the least possible position ever.

“Geoff doesn’t wanna move,” Geoff said plaintively from behind his moustache, and Jack pinned him with an unnoticed glare.

“And now he’s referring to himself in the third person. Awesome. How many bottles is that?”

“We need to think about this seriously, guys,” Ryan interrupted before an argument could break out about Geoff’s alcohol consumption. “You know where I stand on this.”

“Does anyone wanna give us a hint about what the fuck you’re on about?” Michael finally cut in, untangling his hand from Gavin’s newly-mussed locks. “Ray, you don’t know either, right?”

“Huh?”

“For fucks sake, would you put that damn thing down for a fucking minute? Christ,” and Ray only shrugged again at Michael’s suggestion. He shut the device, but the light still blinked occasionally. Still on, then.

“The idea is to have you guys move in with us, now that we’re a crew.” Jack finally informed them, and Ryan ran a hand over his face.

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Ray echoed Michael.

“And the reason it’s a problem is because Ryan has some unsolved issues with you, Ray, and also because Geoff is a whiny bitch and doesn’t wanna move so we can have more space.” Gavin shot daggers at Ryan and Geoff in turn. “Other than that, we’re all on the same page.”

“Providing you want to move in, of course.” Geoff added. He sounded kinda doubtful, to be honest.

Michael looked at Ray, who shrugged.

“I mean, we’re already here all the time, anyway. May as well make it official.”

Gavin whooped, threw himself from the couch and landed painfully against Ray’s knees; Jack patted Michael on the back from where she sat on the back of the sofa while sharing a look with Geoff, and Ryan only groaned.

 

*-*-*-*

It was only nearing midnight that night when Michael, Geoff and Gavin had retired to the master bedroom. None of those remaining could really complain- the playful banter and wrestling between Gavin and Michael had quickly descended into flirting, making out on the floor and hands sliding underneath shirts and waistbands before the boss dragged them away.

(Quite literally. He just scooped Gavin off the floor and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of flour, grabbed Michael by the hand, and pulled them, laughing and muttering quietly, to their room.) Jack, too, begged out of the rest of Mario Party after being gloriously kicked in the ass by Ray, and headed to her own room only half an hour later.

It was about quarter past one when Ryan’s sleep-deprived and slowly-sobering mind realised that they were the only two left in the room, Ray on Ryan’s sofa and Ryan still in the armchair that matched the leather couch; the length of which kept them apart. The time it took for his brain the implications of this was around the same length of time it took for his Kirby to be thrown off the stage by Peach, the Super Smash Bros. post-game screen coming up as Ray smugly dropped the Wii remote on the coffee table.

Ryan dropped his own a second later, and stood, taking in the awkward silence and turning to leave.

Ray almost let him.

“Hang on a sec,” he said, before Ryan could make off down the hallway.

Ryan stopped, but didn’t turn.

“What?”

“Are you.. uh,” and god, Ray definitely didn’t know how to phrase this, because he didn’t really have the capacity to care or feel sympathy often, let alone empathy. “Are you like, actually okay with me moving in? Like, I know you’re not- you’re not _happy_ ,“ He hastily added, as Ryan turned just enough to see him from the corner of his eye, “but… I don’t really wanna step on your toes, or..”

He trailed off at a low laugh from Ryan, the guy turning away again and putting his hand over his face.

“You ‘don’t wanna step on toes’?” The gent muttered with fake humour. “You’ve been trying to get on my last nerve since you fucking showed up and sat on my couch. Don’t even start,” and now he was facing Ray fully, holding a hand up in the air to cut off what he was sure would be Ray’s protests to the contrary. “Just, don’t.”

He stood for a minute and Ray fiddled with the sleeve of his purple hoodie, wanting to pull out his DS and return to the false security he felt with his face behind the console. But he really, _really_ didn’t want to be a red flag to a bull right now.

Ryan debated for a moment, hand still in the air to stop Ray from talking as he processed.

Sighing, he chose to sit on the lounge, near Ray, but still not on the same piece of furniture.

“I think it’s about time we talk about some stuff.”

“Aw, shit, are you breaking up with me?” Ray snarked, only to receive a glare from Ryan.

“Let’s start with why you’re here, shall we?”

Ray froze for a moment- that had thrown him for a loop. Ryan hastened to explain.

“You walk in here, being allowed as a favour to Gavin, and act like you own the place.” He held up his hand again to cut Ray from talking- and the kid was getting really sick of it, but he let it slide and held back his objections. “You say you want a job. You get a job, and you do okay.” Again, the hand is there- Ray thought he’d done quite well. “But you don’t tell any of us what you did before, how you got good with guns, and why you want this job so much. It can’t just be the money, can it- you can earn more than that going solo, and there are risks with teams that don’t exist alone..”

Ryan put his hand on his chin, the illusion of thinking fooling nobody.

“So I think it’s about time you told us.”

Ryan didn’t stop him this time, and Ray took his chance.

And ran off with it.

“First of all, fuck you, I don’t owe _you, personally_ , anything. What came before is between me and Geoff, you wanna know? You ask him. He can decide if you find out or not.” And Ryan was silent in shock at both the words, and the volume with which they were said - _holy shit. The kid actually has spoken to Geoff._ “And secondly, you are definitely not what you’re cracked up to be. You know, you actually have crews running scared? The Mad King, the Vagabond... they’re fucking terrified of you, and you’re a pussy.” Ryan was turning kinda red, but Ray wasn’t finished.

“People out there won’t fuck with the Fake AH, because they know you’re a part of it. They think you’re a psychopath, and you are, a bit, aren’t you, Ryan, because you like killing, sometimes, the thrill you get.”

“Don’t assume anything about me!” Ryan interrupted angrily, but Ray threw his hand up- and for some reason, Ryan shut up.

_Damn. That hand thing actually works. That’s cool._

“Then don’t _you_ go assuming anything about _me_! Maybe I wanted to be part of a crew no-one dared mess with, maybe I saw my chance when I saved Gavin’s ass three months back accidentally and he practically invited me to join the crew!”

“Then why didn’t you just fucking come out and say you wanted to join, instead of fucking us around for a couple of weeks? Why did you keep making innuendos and, shit, I don’t know, why were you flirting with me all the goddamn time?” Ryan shouted, and they’d be lucky if they didn’t wake anyone up at this point.

“Why did you get so hostile over a bloody couch?! Why did you hate me the second I walked in that door and sat down, why did you confuse the hell out of me by flirting back, why did you kiss me?!” Ray was standing now, arms aggressively emphasizing his frustration and his words. Ryan stood, too, towering over him but not making him back down in the slightest.

“Because I don’t know what you want from me!” And did he say “me”? He meant “us”. Of course. “I don’t know what your fucking intentions are, and you’re confusing and frustrating and drive me up the fucking wall half the time, and you still won’t tell me what you want!”

“I just wanted to _feel safe!!”_ Ray roared, and down the hallway Ryan heard a door click open quietly, in the silence that followed.

Could silence hurt your ears? Because the absence of sound in the apartment was actually painful, the quiet whirr of the refrigerator and the faint sounds of bedsprings echoing.

“I just,” and the kid looked like a kid again, hopeless, frustrated, tearing at his hair with one hand while the other clenched against his waist, “They don’t fuck with the Fake. And I thought if I made myself useful here, they wouldn’t fuck with me, either. ‘Cause they do, y’know?” And it was said with urgent despair, like he _really needed_ Ryan to get this. “Anyone under them, gets fucked- but it’s income, right, odd jobs here and there, a boss to take a cut but still enough food to eat, lackeys to chase you down when you’re not providing for the crew and remind you why you exist..” He trailed off, and Ryan let it sink in.

He felt an odd sense of wanting to comfort the kid, because yeah, he knew, only too well. He’d been lucky, meeting Geoff at a time that it was useful, before he could be damaged too far by solitude in a ‘career’ like this one.

And it made sense, now. Gavin randomly having a friend he hadn’t mentioned before that he trusted implicitly. Ray’s skills with a sniper rifle. His practically unquestioned induction to the crew. His trust in Ryan…  and that’s where he got stuck.

“So, you thought that the best way of staying safe, was to join up with a murderous psychopath,” Ryan mulled it over aloud, and Ray flinched.

“That wasn’t…” The kid mumbled, but Ryan cut him off coldly.

“Yeah, that’s what you meant. It’s what you did, right?”

“It was different. You weren’t what I expected,” Ray said quickly, and Ryan raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently for an explanation. He sat down and folded his arms, perched on the edge of the couch. Ray paced for a bit.

“You.. there’s all these rumours about you, and everyone’s fucking terrified of running against you, right? But then I show up, and you’re angry about a _couch_.”

Ryan blinked.

“And then it was the cheerios,” and Ray couldn’t hold back a huff of laughter at the notion, “and I listened to your music and used your shower, and it was like, you were _so angry_ , it was kind of frightening actually, but so fucking _stupid,_ like, who even gets angry about cereal?” And now the kid was laughing outright, sitting on his- _no, Ryan’s-_ couch with his face in his hands, as though he could hide his expressions that way.

“And you flirted,” he recalled, “you flirted back- you kissed me the other day in the hallway.” Ryan flinched back, but Ray leaned forward a little and pulled his hands away from his face, staring intently at the blond now. “And I just… on the heist, you were a killing machine, but you’re so different in real life. Imagine if they all knew the guy they were so scared of listens to _Journey_ in the shower. And that he gets territorial over his weapons and shower and his couch. It’s kinda cute, actually, definitely funny, but almost adorable. Like a puppy wearing a sweater, but the puppy turns out to be like a shark or something.”

Ryan was crimson now, but waited for Ray to finish what he was saying.

“And yeah. I guess you just… weren’t scary. You’re fucking terrifying half the time, don’t get me wrong, it’s really hot, to be honest…” he smiled slightly after that, but it was replaced quickly by a look of contemplation.

“You make me feel safe.” Ray trailed off, as though he realised halfway through he didn’t really have a point to make now.

Silence reigned.

“You done?” Ryan said curtly, waiting for Ray to decide when to shut up. He received a nod.

“Good.”

It was two simple motions, a hand reaching out to grab Ray around the wrist, and then the hand being retracted again, pulling the kid to the floor, where Ryan could trap him between his knees. It took a moment for Ryan to assess whether this was what they both wanted this time, but saw nothing but a surprised eagerness in Ray’s eyes behind the glasses, and went for it.

The second time around was much better.

Ray wasn’t experiencing this around a haze this time, and could put his full attention on the taste of coffee on Ryan’s tongue, the softness of his lips, the feel of a calloused hand cupping the side of his face to hold him there- as though he would pull away if given the chance. He could count Ryan’s teeth with his tongue, if he felt inclined, could slip his hands into Ryan’s hair and free it from the loose ponytail only to carefully tug his hands through the long, blonde strands. As it was, he was content to hold a hand against Ryan’s hip, if only to feel him twitch beneath his fingers, the other hand gripping the collar of the taller man’s jacket to keep him still.

What was as sweet at the outset as the way Ryan drank his coffee quickly deteriorated, mere minutes passing as Ray tugged violently at Ryan’s jacket, as the latter slid hands down Ray’s back and to behind his thighs and lifted him, using his strength to throw the lad on the ratted sofa and follow. Ray sat with his back against the armrest and Ryan in front of him, one leg on the carpeted floor and one between both of Ryan’s, breathing him in and touching whatever expanse he could reach of the man above him.

Air wasn’t necessary, was it? They could live forever like this.

 

Apparently not, if the way Ryan’s muscles tensed against Ray after a minute, and the latter pulled away slowly to open his eyes and meet their gazes.

He heard it, then, the distraction- slight footsteps padding back down the hallway. Probably Jack, judging by the gait and the practiced carefulness in where she placed her steps. Content that she was gone, Ray turned back to face Ryan, who had his eyes shut.

“No, don’t start thinking now,” Ray bemoaned, feeling Ryan pull away, and not just in a physical sense. “Jack won’t care. Come on...” Ryan didn’t pull away further as Ray’s grip on his jacket tightened, though he could probably easily pull himself out of this situation. Ryan looked down, not at Ray but at the hand on his jacket, and bit his lip lightly.

“I…” And Ray stilled his hand from where it had been slowly dragging up and down against Ryan’s side, letting his full attention return to what Ryan was saying, “I haven’t, ah.”

“You a virgin?” Ray asked quietly, with a noticeable trace of humour in his tone- it disappeared as Ryan huffed.

“No, moron. I just haven’t done this in.. well, a long time.”

“What, sex? Because, y’know, that doesn’t even have to be in the cards, right now, y’know, like I made all those jokes about blowjobs and stuff, but I di-“

“No, although, well, yeah, it’s been a while, sure, but I haven’t... trusted someone like this. In a really long time. Not like this.”

_Don’t ever give me reason not to trust you the way I do right now_.

“Neither have I,” Ray said, after a long moment. “That’s okay, though. I trust you.”

It wasn’t that simple.

Was it?

Ryan furrowed his brow, letting his eyes slip shut again even as he felt Ray sigh beneath him. He thought back to four- five days ago now, to the healing wound in Ray’s shoulder, the way he’d refused to leave knowing that Ryan wasn’t going to make it alive without him, refused to give up and save his own life.

“Don’t think we won’t be talking about that,” he muttered aloud, as though the kid had been privy to his own thoughts.

“Huh?”

“You. Not leaving and saving my life.”

“Oh.” Ray shrugged, the movement rocking Ryan for a moment. “Well, y’know. That’s part and parcel of the job.”

“No, it isn’t,” Ryan snapped suddenly, voice still quiet in the late night- or was it early morning, now? “I don’t want you ever doing that again, alright? Not for me, not for anyone. You wanna feel safe, you stop fucking around and getting shot, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Ray giggled, and really, the kid had a terrible sense of appropriate reactions and when they should happen.

“Alright. I promise not to get shot and save your ass ever again. Especially if you’re gonna be this ungrateful about it,” he snorted, jolting Ryan with the movement.

“I mean it, Ray. I need to know…”

“What?”

“If I’m gonna get invested in this,” and Ryan would say he’s pretty fucking invested, judging by the way his hand’s been slowly sliding up underneath Ray’s hoodie (though still above the shirt, because this is serious talking time), “I need to know you’re safe.”

“Well, I will be,” Ray insisted.

“How can you possibly know that?” Ryan asked incredulously.

“Simple. You’ve got my back. And, like it or not, I’ve got yours, now, too.”

It appeared Ray was done talking by this point, and Ryan didn’t really have any objections any more, so he let himself be pulled down to claim the younger man’s lips again.

 

The serious talk had done its best to kill the mood, Ray had to give it that, but to be honest there was nothing about a strong, gorgeous man above him that wasn’t arousing, plus the hand that had been crawling up his back was a lot easier to pay attention to now that their mouths had stopped fighting and started cooperating. It wasn’t a warm night, but Ryan seemed to radiate heat as he picked up the pace a little, Ray encouraging him every step of the way.

The hand that had been stroking Ryan’s hip was now urgently pulling at the edge of the leather jacket the guy always seemed to be wearing, his other hand fumbling for the fasteners so he could pull it off. Ryan wasn’t making it easier, now, pushing Ray against the couch and pinning him like prey, the pair of them a tangle of limbs and clothes and tongues. Ryan pulled away only briefly to rip the zipper on his jacket down, but left it open and on, revealing the stupid cat t-shirt he was wearing below. Ray surged upwards at the opportunity it gave him as the collar revealed the ‘v’ of Ryan’s neck.

He kissed the skin softly and Ryan panted, possibly for air but more likely for more. Ray wasn’t sure how far Ryan dipped into enjoying violence, and didn’t want to push boundaries, but it seemed like it would be reasonable for him to scrape his teeth against the hollow of Ryan’s collarbone.

The gasp he received was more than worth it, and the muttered reiteration of his name led Ray to believe that maybe he’d stumbled onto something here.

“Ray,” Ryan sighed, hands bracketing Ray as they rested on the arm of the couch- probably not a comfortable position for him, but one that allowed for him to get undressed faster. “Ray, don’t fuck around, Ray, come on…”

Ray pulled away entirely, as far back as he could to take in the dilation of Ryan’s pupils, the flush crawling along the gent’s neck.

“This is definitely okay, yeah?” Ray asked contemplatively. He was all for it, although having a first time on a couch wasn’t really the best idea around- but moving seemed like too much effort.

“Fuck, Ray, I’m okay as long as you are,” Ryan said above him, and that was all he needed. He pushed upwards with both hands on the centre of Ryan’s chest, shoving him backwards a little. Ray shuddered slightly with the action as Ryan brushed against his inner thighs, but put it aside for now in favour of finally getting his partner shirtless, the jacket slipping to the floor and the shirt ending up somewhere out of sight and mind.

The pale yet well-defined torso that greeted him was littered with various scars, and Ray promised himself that he’d study them all some time later if the opportunity arose again, but for now, it was more important to keep getting Ryan naked. Taking a few seconds, he pulled his glasses away from his face and Ryan took them, putting them on the coffee table- he could still see well enough without them, and it wasn’t worth accidentally damaging them for no reason.

Ryan inhaled sharply again as Ray returned to his previous task, mapping his way across the bare skin with his teeth. He could feel Ryan’s pulse as he skirted it, smiling against the expanse of his neck that was clear of any marks.

Not for much longer.

Ryan shuddered and rocked forwards as Ray bit down carefully, sucking a mark into the skin that he hoped wouldn’t be covered by the jacket. Ray’s breath hitched in response at the knee that rolled against his crotch, far too calculated to be accidental.

And that’s when Ryan decided it was his turn.

He drew away from Ray’s hands and sat up a little further, Ray looking like he was about to protest, as though he thought Ryan was pulling away for good. That problem was fixed, however, when Ryan dragged Ray with him, hands under his ass to scoot him forwards so he was lying fully on the couch, Ryan straddling his thighs. Ryan pulled him up a little to divest him- without much complaint, other than about the coolness of the room- of his own hoodie and shirt.

Then those coffee-tainted lips were on his again, but it was _so much better_ this time, because he had the weight of Ryan fully above him, and if he rolled his hips enough he could feel the friction of his own jeans against his cock, but also the similar bulge effecting Ryan as much as it was affecting him.

Ryan moaned into the kiss, but pulled away after mere seconds- Ray wanted to complain, but found he couldn’t when those lips were tracing a line down from his cheek to his chest. He bucked up slowly, revelling in the heady sensations assailing him.

“Ray,” Ryan said above him, and he had to shake his head a little to focus back on what was being said.

“Huh?”

“How many men did you take out this week?”

“What?” And there was no way he could think, not when there was a cooling trail of where Ryan’s mouth had burned along his body, when hands, bigger and stronger than his, held him to the ragged fabric of the old sofa, when those lips now toyed across his abdomen teasingly.

“How many? Tell me.”

“U-uh..” and _god_ it was hard to think when all he could concentrate on was what Ryan’s mouth was doing, not what it was saying. “I.. around twenty or thirty a-all up?”

“Mmh,” Ryan hummed against his skin, Ray’s stomach muscles twitching below his touch. “I think I owe you something, then.”

“What do you- o _h, God._ ” Hands toyed at the button and zipper of his jeans, Ray not having realised his own wrists weren’t pinned anymore. He lifted his hips and let Ryan pull away his jeans, ignoring the pain that he felt from his shoulder and let his hands come up to tug at Ryan’s ponytail. His jeans landed somewhere even further from his mind than their shirts and jackets.

“ _Fuck_. Oh, _fuck_ , you’re evil.”

Ryan only shot him a sly grin from where he now kneeled, arms over Ray’s thighs to keep him from bucking up and fingers toying at the hem of Ray’s boxer briefs. The curses were elicited as the older male mouthed at Ray through the material of his shorts, the fabric soaked and short-circuiting Ray’s nerve endings as it cooled in the crisp morning air, right over the head of his cock.

“R-Ryan, fucki-“ And that’s all the order he needed to give, as the fingers danced lower on his hips, taking his boxers with them.

Ryan grinned up at him from between his knees and quite honestly, the sight alone probably could have lasted Ray a year or two for memory material to jack off to, but that was nothing compared to the sensation of Ryan leaning down and kissing the tip, before taking him into his mouth.

Ryan was by no means well-versed in oral sex, having only had a few college experiences to remember by, but Ray was so turned on that it didn’t really take much. A simple rhythm was established. Ryan’s hair fell around his face messily as he worked, one hand wrapped around Ray and stroking gently in counterpoint to the bobbing movement he was making with his mouth.  Ray’s hands tangled in those soft strands, not pushing or pulling or forcing Ryan to do anything, just enjoying the sensation as much as he was enjoying the blowjob.

Seeing that Ray was in control enough of his body to not buck up, Ryan let his hands wander, tracing the backs of the younger man’s thighs and drawing mindless patterns into the soft skin as he worked him over, gasps getting louder and increasing in pitch until Ray was saying an endless litany of senseless words. Ryan could hear the occasional utterance of his name thrown in.

He could tell Ray was getting close as the words turned into a chorus, hips stuttering up and down and the hands that usually wielded a sniper rifle tightening in Ryan’s hair.

“Please, pl- Ryan, fuck, I.. _please…_ ”

Ryan said nothing, but his eyes dilated further, determination in his expression as he let Ray slide into his mouth as far as he could without gagging. He sped up, too, until Ray was a mess, gasping and exhaling loudly as he breathed Ryan’s name, until finally he bucked involuntarily. Ryan pulled away and gave a final few strokes, smiling softly at Ray as the younger lad came with a low moan, painting his own stomach.

Ray took a few deep breaths, Ryan feeling his body pulse in time with his racing heartbeat. He let himself roll to the side of the couch against the back of it, but pulled the zipper to his jeans down. He wasn’t going to force the kid to help him out, but there was no way he was going to be able to walk to the bathroom to get himself off after that.

Hands batted his own away as he took himself in hand, his jeans and underwear pushed down just far enough to let himself loose. Frowning at Ray, he took in the sight of the young man, looking utterly exhausted but mostly content.

“Let me,” Ray insisted, taking him in hand somewhat gingerly. Ryan groaned- it felt good, amazing, even, but it wasn’t going to be enough, the lad was tired and not focused enough. Instead of saying so, though, he just let his hand fall to cover Ray’s, and they worked together, Ryan guiding him in regards to speed and the tightness of his hand until he came undone, shuddering and breathless, lips against Ray’s. Once the shaking had stopped and his heart had stopped racing, Ryan got up, despite Ray’s protest, and grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom, cleaning them both quickly and efficiently. He collected their clothes and threw them in the hamper in his room, except for the pair of shorts he’d pulled back on.

As he got back to the living room he saw Ray had done the same, and was dozing lightly on the sofa. He should pick him up, really, and take him into his bedroom, but to be honest he didn’t have the motivation or the energy and he looked too comfortable on the crappy sofa- so Ryan just joined him.

“We really should go to bed,” he muttered as Ray shifted, still slightly awake, to cuddle up against him.

“Mm,” was all he got in response.

*-*-*-*

If you’d asked Ryan to explain what happened within the first three seconds of him waking up, before he could properly process it, he’d say that a large bird had somehow gotten into the penthouse, squawked, and then run on its abnormally large feet down the hallway towards Geoff’s room.

Five seconds in and Ryan’s eyes shot open, taking in the room. He’d slept on the sofa, that was obvious- his back was killing him, and this as obviously the living room.

Next, he took in the warm body snuggled half on top of him, and the fact that while he could feel Ray’s skin against his own, there was something over them- a blanket.

Third came the fact that Jack was smirking at him over a cup of whatever she was drinking this morning where she sat at the kitchen table, and fourth was that the loud and annoying bird was, of course, Gavin, who reappeared, a sleepy-looking Michael and a grumpy Geoff in tow. He was chattering away annoyingly, and neither looked very impressed, though Ryan saw both sets of eyes widen in surprise as they took in the scene.

“Uh,” Ryan said intelligently, realising exactly what they’d all walked in to see. Ray shifted against him, but didn’t wake yet. “I can explain?”

“Nope,” Geoff interrupted loudly, striding straight past the pair on the couch and heading for the kitchen- no, not the kitchen. The new wine rack, that proudly boasted an extra twenty bottles than the last one had- “I don’t want to know. I don’t want to _think_ about it. I don’t want to _hear_ about it.” He grabbed the first bottle he saw, opened it, and Jack didn’t even try to stop him.

“Oh.” Was all Ryan had to say. Although, judging from Gavin and Michael’s expressions, it looked as though he would have a very captive audience if he ever chose to share every detail of the previous night.

It was awkward for a few moments as Geoff drained a third of the bottle in one go, set it on the table, and began opening cupboards in search of breakfast foods.

“Though, Ryan?” he heard from behind the pantry door as Geoff hunted for bread.

“Yeah?” he responded tentatively, hand snaking around Ray’s waist beneath the blanket that he assumed Jack had thrown over them.

The pantry door slammed shut, Geoff staring him down from across the room, and Ryan gulped.

“The couch has to go.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, everyone, thank you so so so much for every comment, kudos, bookmark and hit. You are all amazing, thank you for sticking with me for this story.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! First fic on AO3, first RT/AH RPF fic, first fic in two years- and to top it all off, it's not beta'd. Please let me know if you see any errors, whether they be grammar or continuity mistakes. Thank you for reading, and if you have any comments, I'd really appreciate knowing what you think. I will most likely be writing more chapters if I have the energy and inspiration. 
> 
> As mentioned in the tags, if I continue this the rating and the pairings will change. The ones already there will stay but more will be added. 
> 
> Also, you can find me at tumblr at http://ithadnoeffect.tumblr.com if you want to come cry with me about rvb and rt/ah stuff.


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